


I'll Be Your Worst-Kept Secret (Not Your Biggest Mistake)

by Solarcat



Series: A Mess Like You Wouldn't Believe [2]
Category: Bandom, Jonas Brothers, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Coming Out, Did I Mention Porn Yet?, Established Relationship, Family Drama, First Time, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Oops?, Porn, Secret Relationship, Sequel, There Is Just a Lot of Gay Sex Happening Here, more porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solarcat/pseuds/Solarcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot can happen in four months, especially if you’re Kevin Jonas and you have a secret boyfriend you barely ever get to see. Or, a story about first times, family, and how secrets always have a way of coming out, in the end. [An obsessively-close-to-canon!AU.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Your Worst-Kept Secret (Not Your Biggest Mistake)

**Author's Note:**

> So after two years of procrastination and writer's block, I now present the sequel to _[Tie Your Handlebars to the Stars (And Throw Away the Map)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/140670)_! Which was only, like, the first Skippy fic I ever wrote. GOOD TIMING, SELF. KEEP IT UP. In any case, here it is. It is about 9000% more porn-y than the first part, just so you are all prepared. Good? Good. YAY!
> 
> Big thanks to everyone who encouraged me in writing this, and to my lovely mixers, Sparrowsverse and Chalcopyrite! You are fabulous and made of win! (See endnotes for the mixes themselves!! <3 ) And thanks to Skippy fandom for being full of amazing(ly patient!) people; y'all are the best!

(January 1, 2009)

"Shit, you're freezing!" Mike yelps when he greets Kevin with a hug. Kevin nods tightly, working to force his jaw muscles to function.

"Y-yeah. It's really cold out there," he murmurs as Mike pulls him close and rubs his hands up and down Kevin's arms. "Some of us didn't get to perform indoors."

"I feel so sorry for you," Mike deadpans, and Kevin giggles just a little bit. It still seems surreal that he and his brothers are famous enough to rate being up on the main stage in Times Square for New Year's Eve.

"Happy New Year," Mike says when Kevin's stopped shivering so much, dropping a soft kiss on his lips that Kevin takes and claims and returns with lots of enthusiasm and a little bit of tongue. Someone wolf-whistles, and Mike casually flips them off while Kevin blushes. It's nice, to be able to touch and kiss without worrying; Angels & Kings is full of friends tonight -- most of Mike's labelmates are in attendance, along with a smattering of close friends and significant others.

"Happy New Year," Kevin finally replies, smiling. He warms up fast in the heat of dozens of bodies sharing space in the bar, fast enough that the cold beer Mike brings back for him a few minutes later tastes wonderful rather than ridiculous.

Big Rob was overly suspicious about detouring the car to drop Kevin off without security, but Pete had actually been the one to invite Kevin to the party, which let him sell it to his parents as _socializing with industry contacts_ as opposed to _spending New Year's at a bar with my boyfriend-you-don't-know-about_ , and Angels & Kings is far enough away from Times Square that the adoring mob was unable to follow. And Nick and Joe, despite the latter's professed jealousy, were awesome enough not to leak even a hint that they knew Kevin's true intentions, though Joe's knowing smirks were more reassuring than Nick's expressionless silence.

He's got his cell phone and instructions to meet them in their hotel's lobby at eleven the next morning, because his parents trust him. Kevin isn't sure whether to be pleased or worried that the twinges of guilt he gets when he remembers that fact keep getting smaller and smaller. Either way, the thought that he's betraying his parents' trust barely makes him pause in the face of the banner year they've had, and the prospect of celebrating it with a few drinks and nine or ten hours with Mike, who he hasn't seen in person since before Thanksgiving.

Brendon's taking an acoustic up to the microphone, so they position themselves to watch, Mike's arm slung low and possessive around Kevin's hips. Brendon doesn't sing for very long; just one Panic song and a Journey cover and finally, with a sharply directed smirk and thumbs-up in Kevin's direction, a rousing rendition of "Part of Your World" from _The Little Mermaid_ , which he and Brendon had bonded over during a long texting conversation in mid-June. Kevin sings along happily (along with about three quarters of the room, and Kevin has to smile because he'd been so worried, at the beginning, that Mike's friends were way too cool for him) and when Brendon finishes, he awkwardly joins in the applause, clapping as well as he can around the beer bottle in his hand. His ring makes most of the noise, clinking dangerously against the glass.

"You've got a hotel room, right?" Kevin asks, leaning in so he's close to Mike's ear and doesn't have to announce the conversation to the room at large. Mike looks surprised.

"You wanna go?" He asks, _Already?_ hanging silently in the air. Kevin shakes his head.

"Not yet. But, y'know. Later," he shrugs, trying to stay casual. He slides his thumb against the ring, slipping it down and off his finger as unobtrusively as possible.

Mike smiles at him, bemused. "Later?" Which, okay, it's well past 1AM, there isn't much _later_ to be found, but... Kevin turns and shifts until his body is nearly flush with Mike's, standing cheek-to-cheek like they're about to slow-dance at the junior prom.

"Later," he says firmly, pressing the ring into Mike's free hand until his fingers close around it. Mike looks puzzled for a second, then glances at the object in his palm and Kevin's unadorned hand, pieces sliding and locking into place. The look he gives Kevin is so heated that Kevin can almost feel his edges starting to smolder. In fact, he's seriously reconsidering the whole _later_ part of that 'later' thing when he's attacked from behind by a pair of startlingly long arms that reveal themselves to belong to William Beckett.

"Fluffy! It has been _ages_ since we've seen you!" He exclaims, and Kevin notes that 'we' seems to include Gabe as well. "I do hope Michael has been treating you properly..." Bill sends a mock glare at Mike, who doesn't dignify it with a response. Kevin watches him slip the ring into his pocket, though.

"Mike," Gabe declares, "We're kidnapping your boy." He somehow manages to find a place to slip an arm of his own around Kevin, steering him away from Mike and towards the bar. Brendon waves as they make their way over.

"I want him back in an hour, Saporta!" Mike shouts, and Gabe lazily waves a hand back at him. Kevin just hopes no one asks why his face is so red, or why he can't stop smiling.

  
**~oOo~**   


Mike grips his beer firmly in one hand, so firmly that it might be considered a stranglehold if there was any way to strangle a bottle. His other hand dips into his jeans pocket and -- now that Gabe and William are across the room, occupying themselves by being as ridiculous as usual -- pulls the ring back out. He holds it in his palm, shielding the tiny bit of metal from the view of any onlookers.

It just sits there, a little shiny but mostly sort of banged up from wear and tear. There's nothing menacing about it, and it's not particularly heavy or anything. But it _feels_ heavy, and maybe even warm, like if he keeps holding it, it might burn him.

There are a few things Mike was prepared for this evening. Having a good time at the party, definitely. Getting to see Kevin, yes. Indulging in all the kissing and cuddling and, yeah, blowjobs, that they don't get to enjoy over the phone, hell yes. This? This, Mike was actually not prepared for at all.

Not that he hasn't thought about having sex with Kevin, but _fuck_ , he sort of expected more warning.

Mike's not opposed to the idea; in fact, his dick is already pretty interested, even though Kevin is halfway across the room. But the weight of Kevin's ring in his hand is sobering. Mike got into this relationship with the full knowledge that his boyfriend wore a purity ring, and exactly what that meant in terms of sex. As it turned out, what it meant to Kevin was a lot more involved than just _don't have sex until you're married_ , and Mike can't say he doesn't like the touching and the blowjobs, but he also knows how seriously Kevin has taken everything.

Mike is the one Kevin talks to, spending long hours on the phone in the middle of the night, when he's trying to reconcile his faith and his promise with the reality that he likes boys -- that he loves _Mike_ \-- and that while they could get married, technically, in the right states or in Canada or whatever, that's not exactly the same 'marriage' the ring was supposed to be about. That his parents think the ring is about.

Kevin's parents don't know, officially, about Kevin or especially about Mike. And Mike's okay with that, though if they get to the 'adopting a bunch of starving orphans' stage that Bill keeps teasing him about, he figures at some point he'll have to play meet-the-parents (and he's pretty sure that five minutes outside a motel room in Chicago a couple of years ago doesn't actually count).

The point is, Mike knows how much time Kevin has spent thinking about this. He knows that despite Kevin's bravado the first time he asked -- if he could touch, if he could taste, if Mike would do the same -- he was still just a little bit terrified. Mike _doesn't_ know what that fear is, exactly. That it would hurt? That Mike would leave? That some cosmic announcement would be made and his family would instantly know? That the wrath of God would strike him down? A little bit of all-of-the-above? It's the one thing Kevin can't articulate, and it's fucking frustrating because if Mike knew, then maybe he could make it better somehow.

But he doesn't know. He doesn't know, and now he's got Kevin's ring burning a tiny circle into his palm that only he can see. They should talk about it first. They should sit down and actually talk about it, as much as it would probably leave Kevin's face a permanent shade of bright red. But they're not going to, Mike knows, because he's got Kevin's permission, and he's well aware of how long Kevin must have thought about this.

They're going to go back to Mike's hotel room and have sex, and Mike clenches his fist and swears on a ring that holds too many weighty promises already, that he's going to make Kevin's first time the best fucking first time anyone ever had.

  


**~oOo~**  


The naked skin on his finger is distracting, in a way. No one else seems to notice the ring is gone, but Kevin's thumb moves naturally to the place where it was, to affect the nervous habit of spinning it around and around, finding nothing there to spin. Some part of Kevin feels naked without it there; like it was something he could hide behind, like it protected him. A bigger part is all nervous excitement, though, and that part is coiling his insides into knots even while his chest feels full to bursting. He takes a sip of his beer and listens attentively while Patrick slightly-drunkenly preaches to the slightly-drunken choir about the merits of Jay-Z while simultaneously trying to keep Pete from crawling into his pants when he's distracted. Brendon occasionally breaks into song, which is totally normal for Brendon. The beer doesn't do much to alleviate Kevin's knotting/bursting problems, but it makes them seem a little less pressing.

He's going to have _sex_ with _Mike_.

Kevin is more excited than he can ever remember being; not even the night of their first big arena show can quite top this. But at the same time he sort of wants to grab his coat and run far, far away and hope he never has to see Mike again. Which he doesn't _really_ want, obviously, so he doesn't know why his brain keeps insisting it's an option.

Kevin is the oldest brother, and it's not like he can ask his father if it's normal to be this freaked out by the imminent loss of his virginity, not when his father doesn't actually know about Mike, and doesn't even officially know about Kevin's gayness (though Kevin sort of hopes he knows already and is keeping silent out of respect for how mortified Kevin will be when they have that conversation, and how he wants to delay it as long as possible). Anyway, he doesn't have a baseline for this, or really anyone to share it with. He didn't tell his brothers what he was planning. Nick would have given him that wounded look and their dad's Values Speech again, and Joe... Actually, Kevin doesn't know if Joe would congratulate him, or make grossed-out faces about his _brother_ having sex and how he doesn't want to hear Kevin's TMI anymore.

He's thought about it for a long time, though. Not about Joe's reaction, obviously, but about sex, and Mike, and sex with Mike. Maybe since that time Mike had come to meet him on tour, and left him with bruises on his collarbone and the knowledge that theirs was an actual relationship, not just two people who occasionally dragged each other off to make out in corners. They've done other things, things Kevin could allow himself. He knows the feel of Mike's hands on him, where the calluses press and the natural rhythm he falls into when he's jerking Kevin off. He knows the weight of Mike's dick in his hands and how he groans when Kevin slides his thumb over the tip. He knows the taste of Mike's come on his tongue and the taste of his own come on Mike's lips.

It's not really in the spirit of the ring, of the promise he made. Kevin knows that. But he hasn't been able to bring himself to take the ring off any more than he was able to bring himself to stop. It still means something, though he's had to come to terms with the knowledge that he couldn't keep his promise, anyway. It was a promise to wait until marriage; until a sworn-before-God, you-may-kiss-the-bride kind of marriage. A marriage in the church. A marriage he can't have, at least without lying to himself and everyone else -- the Assemblies of God are unlikely to change their position on the man-and-woman thing anytime soon. And it breaks Kevin's heart a little, to know that particular dream won't be coming true for him. It breaks his heart, but he's been busy stitching it back together with new dreams.

The ring still means something. It means he's waiting for it to be right. He's waiting for it to be special.

Mike never pushes, even though Kevin knows for a fact that a year is nearly a year longer than he's waited to have sex in practically any relationship outside of maybe his first high school girlfriend. He doesn't push, but the first time Kevin said, "Can I--?" he only asked, "Are you sure?" And when Kevin said yes, with more certainty in his voice than he was actually feeling at the time, Mike showed him what to do. How to angle his wrist, that first time. How to touch him. And later, how to cover his teeth, and how to keep from choking. All the while looking at Kevin like he was -- is -- something precious, something beautiful. He makes Kevin feel _loved_ in a way that's so different from the love he gets from his family, or from the fans.

Mike's arms wrap around him and Mike's voice rumbles near his ear, "Your hour's up, Saporta. I'm taking back what's mine."

Kevin melts back into the embrace. It's almost 3AM on the first day of a brand new year, and he's leaving this party to go have sex with his boyfriend, who loves him enough to have waited this long without complaining. Without making jokes. Without ever making Kevin feel _less_ for taking so long to be ready, even those times when Kevin himself felt like a loser.

He's ready now.

  


**~*~**  


It's even more freezing outside than Kevin remembers, but Mike's hand is warm in his. The fear of someone seeing them wars with Kevin's desire to keep holding Mike's hand forever; the giddy feeling of want and anticipation wins by a landslide. They end up getting a cab, because TAI is staying in a hotel that's actually a lot closer to Times Square than it is to Angels & Kings. It feels a little silly, going back to almost the same place he was only a few hours earlier, but the intent is so different. The cabbie doesn't notice or care that they're cuddled up in the back seat, too close to be at all innocent.

Mike pays the fare when they get to the hotel and actually holds the door open for Kevin, which is unnecessary but really sweet. He doesn't take Kevin's hand again, because there are actually people wandering around, but the hotel is _right there_ and Kevin feels a rush of panicked excitement that almost overwhelms him. He gives Mike a tentative smile, surprised and pleased to find that Mike looks sort of nervous, too.

"OH MY GOD!"

Kevin jumps a little, instinctively tucking himself against Mike as a girl appears out of nowhere. She's maybe fourteen, if Kevin had to make a guess, bundled up in a fluffy winter coat and scarf and a hat with those little pompom tassels hanging down past her ears. Behind her by a safe margin are an exhausted-looking couple, probably her parents. The man has a younger child of indeterminate gender in his arms, apparently asleep.

"Oh my god, you're-- you!" The girl squeals, and Kevin winces a little. He loves the fans, but not so much when they have the _worst timing ever_.

"I'm like, your biggest fan! Can I get a picture?" The girl asks, at a slightly lower volume but about twice the speed. "Oh my god, are your brothers here?" Her eyes fly open at the possibility, and she immediately starts trying to peer around them, even though there's really nowhere that Nick or Joe could be hiding.

"Um. No, they're not," Kevin manages to get out, and the pressure of Mike's hand on his back -- not enough to be remarkable, but reassuring anyway -- bolsters him. "I'd be happy to take a picture, though," he says, brightening the girl's disappointed expression.

"Mom, where's the camera?" The girl turns to her parents, her mother retrieving a camera from a coat pocket and turning it on with an electronic bleep. Mike takes a step into the background, hovering behind Kevin; the girl hadn't showed any sign of knowing who he was. She wants a picture with a _Jonas Brother_ , which just sort of makes Kevin feel self-conscious. The girl tucks up against his left side, grinning wide and bright, and he puts his arm around her shoulder and smiles for the picture. Once he's blinked the flash out of his eyes, he gives her a friendly hug and she bounces a few steps back.

"Oh my god!" She says again, and Kevin can hear Mike's almost-silent laugh behind him. "Are you staying in this hotel?" It's obvious that she and her family are, by the way her parents are lingering near the door. Kevin blanches, nightmare scenarios like this family having the room _right next to Mike's_ running through his head in quick succession.

"Sort of," he hedges, the tiny Nick in his head yelling _bad answer!!_ at him the whole time. Luckily, though, the girl's parents notice his discomfort, or maybe they're just too tired to deal with an over-excited fourteen-year-old, because her mother says, " _Ashley_ , let's stop bothering him now," and Kevin sends her a grateful look.

The family goes into the hotel lobby, and Kevin tracks their progress across the room and towards the elevators through the glass entry doors, carefully averting his eyes when the girl looks back as the elevator closes. Mike's hand slides across Kevin's hip and settles on his waist.

"You okay?" Mike asks, and Kevin blinks rapidly. He had kind of spaced out, there. He just hadn't been expecting to run into a fan, not this late at night, and not... He leans into Mike's hand and blushes a little.

"Yeah. I'm good," he says, wishing he could kiss Mike right then, but if that little encounter taught him anything, it should be caution. Still, it doesn't make him _want_ any less. He waits until they're in the elevator.

  


**~*~**  


Mike's room isn't really fancy or anything, but it's a nicer hotel so the amenities are contemporary and elegant, and it's got a King-size bed, which is the main room fixture that Kevin cares about at the moment. Mike actually hangs both of their coats up in the closet as Kevin removes his shoes and socks, which means Kevin has to be really awkward and go back to rummage around when he realizes he left the supplies in his coat pocket.

"Boy scout," Mike says fondly, smiling when he sees what Kevin emerges with -- a strip of condoms and a small tube of lubricant, both purchased in the dead of night and in heavy disguise, with cash. Actually, it had been the most terrifying purchasing experience of Kevin's life, but the rolling purr in Mike's voice makes it worth all the strife.

"I wasn't sure--" Kevin starts, but Mike steps in close and cuts him off with a kiss, tossing the supplies on the bed.

"It's good. You got the right stuff," Mike assures him, and Kevin leans his forehead on Mike's shoulder and lets Mike rub his back for a long minute. "Kev, are you sure you want to do this? We don't have to," he says, and that's enough to get Kevin past his nerves. He grips Mike's forearm tightly.

"I want to," he says, and he meets Mike's eyes with utter seriousness. "I really, _really_ want to." He's wanted to for almost a year, and he's not waiting anymore.

Mike kisses him, a long slow press of lips, his tongue curling against Kevin's as he pulls Kevin's shirt free from his pants and starts unbuttoning it. Kevin lets him work. It would be faster to do it himself, but Mike likes to take care of him, and Kevin likes the way Mike treats him with something akin to reverence. It's not that, exactly, but the word "cherished" reminds him of his grandmother, and there's nothing else that will do to describe it.

He's been psyching himself up for this all night, so it's not long after that first touch of Mike's callused fingertips to this skin of his belly and chest that Kevin is whining to be released from his jeans. Mike likes to tease, sometimes, and Kevin usually likes it, but tonight he's glad that Mike just whips his own t-shirt over his head and comes straight back to kiss Kevin soundly and slip his fingers just under Kevin's waistband to release the button on his fly. Mike's careful with the zipper, and Kevin breathes a sigh of relief when he tugs the denim down, freeing Kevin's erection from its confines. Mike drops to the floor, following Kevin's pants down, and Kevin's dick gives an interested twitch.

But Mike just says, "Step," tapping Kevin's calf with a fingertip. He steps, and a few seconds later his jeans are an abandoned heap and Kevin is naked and hard and feeling awkward, standing there in the middle of the room. Mike presses a kiss to the top of his thigh, and Kevin shivers.

They've done this before, enough that Kevin knows what to expect, but he still has to brace himself on Mike's shoulders when Mike gently mouths at his balls, then licks a stripe up the underside of his cock. He holds Kevin's hips in his hands, steadying him as much as holding him in place, and takes the head between his lips, slow and steady. Kevin clenches his hands, blunt nails digging into Mike's skin as Mike sucks him. Mike's mouth is amazing, all wet heat and tightness and Kevin sort of considers it a miracle that he doesn't come right away. He's got enough control, just barely, and he clings to the shreds of it until Mike pulls away and he can take a quick breath to re-center himself.

Mike gets to his feet, not letting go of Kevin's hips. Kevin relaxes into his grip, tilting his head to the side so Mike can lay kisses along the line of his neck up to his ear.

"You're trying not to come," Mike doesn't ask, and Kevin abruptly feels embarrassed.

"I didn't... I don't want to ruin it," He admits, sighing when Mike lifts a hand to push his curls out of his face.

"Okay, look," Mike says, giving Kevin one of his goofy grins, the ones that never fail to pull an answering smile out of Kevin, "First, you could never ruin this." It's amazing, really the way just those few words make Kevin's heart swell.

"And second," he continues, kissing Kevin swiftly, his expression darkening into something hungry, "I _want_ you to come." His hand closes around Kevin's cock and Kevin shudders, still way too close to the edge.

"But I wanted," Kevin explains, breath hitching as Mike strokes him, "I wanted to come with you inside me." Mike's hand stutters, his grip tightening reflexively.

" _Fuck_ ," Mike breathes, leaning in to rest his forehead against Kevin's. His eyes are so close that Kevin's vision blurs a little bit when he tries to meet them, but he doesn't think he's ever seen Mike's pupils so wide.

"You will," Mike says, low and throaty, and Kevin swallows hard. "Kev, you will. If that's what you want, that's what you'll get. But I want you to come for me now." He rubs his thumb over the head of Kevin's cock, coating the rough pad of his fingertip with pre-come and spreading it around. Kevin breathes hard, feeling his orgasm creeping up on him.

"I need you nice and relaxed, baby," he says. Kevin shakes as the pet name sends a jolt of pleasure through him. "Come for me, Kevin," Mike urges, and he does, spilling all over Mike's hands and on his jeans, letting Mike hold him up when his knees give out.

  


**~oOo~**  


Mike takes most of Kevin's boneless weight as he guides him over to the bed, depositing him safely on the comforter. While Kevin works on sitting up, Mike unbuttons his own jeans with sticky fingers, not really caring that Kevin's come is all over the denim, soaking in. It's kind of hot, actually, especially the way Kevin is looking at him as he strips, and he's got a clean pair in his suitcase anyway, so fuck it. He kicks his jeans and boxers over to pile on top of Kevin's, then steps forward and lets Kevin pull him in close. Kevin's gorgeous like this, his skin flushed all over, curls a little windswept and eyes bright.

He's standing in the vee of Kevin's thighs, and it's so easy to cup Kevin's cheek with one hand, warmth filling him up as Kevin leans into it.

"I love you," he spits out before he can over-think it. "I really, really fucking love you," and he knows he's not all that great at saying stuff like that, but the way Kevin's smile stretches out across his face every time Mike gets the words out makes him want to practice. This time's no different; Kevin beams at him and says, "I know. I love you, too," like it's the easiest thing in the world, and Mike's heart goes _thud_. _I'm keeping you forever,_ he thinks, and it's not like he didn't already know he was getting there, but the thought itself is a burst of joy in the center of his chest.

"Scoot up," Mike instructs, nudging Kevin backward toward the center of the bed. He goes, doing a totally undignified backwards crawl that makes Mike laugh until Kevin kicks him lightly with the side of his foot and grins and says, "Stop making fun of me and get over here!"

Kevin's a lot more relaxed now, splayed out and happy; worlds away from the nervous Kevin who'd been standing there a few minutes ago, and Mike's glad because happy is how Kevin should be all the time, and especially right now. Kevin keeps smiling as Mike presses him down into the mattress and kisses him, biting gently at Kevin's bottom lip and licking the roof of Kevin's mouth when he opens up. His dick is riding in the crease at the top of Kevin's thigh, and he can feel that Kevin's starting to get hard again already.

Mike sits back a little and lets his hands wander down Kevin's body; tweaking a nipple just to hear the sound Kevin makes, flattening his palms over the curves of Kevin's hips and thighs. He slips one hand between Kevin's legs to cup his balls, rolling them gently with his fingers and watching Kevin's dick twitch in response, thickening under his gaze. Kevin grips handfuls of hotel comforter, his knuckles suspiciously white. Mike never gets tired of how responsive Kevin is, especially when they find something new that he likes; it happens often, actually, because almost everything is new to Kevin. Mike just hopes he likes what they're about to try.

His fingers slide down, pausing over that sensitive place just behind Kevin's balls, then going even lower, until Mike can press the tip of his index finger against the soft skin of Kevin's hole. Kevin sucks in a breath, tensing reflexively, and Mike leans up to kiss him.

"Gotta stay loose for me, Kev," Mike says, letting Kevin pull him in for another kiss, and then another. He keeps his finger where it is, gently rubbing at the tight muscle, and Kevin shudders. "You ready for this?" He presses more deliberately, the very tip of his finger slipping inside.

Kevin licks his lips, his eyes going wide. "Yeah, yes, I-- I don't think I can wait anymore," he says, like its some terrible secret and not, somehow, one of the hottest things Mike's ever heard anyone say in bed. He fumbles for the lubricant, finding the tube in the vicinity of Kevin's elbow, and pops it open.

"It's gonna be cold at first," he warns, dripping enough -- but not too much -- over his fingers. The tube isn't very big, and it would suck to run out. Kevin nods, swallowing hard but letting his thighs fall a little more open. Fuck, he's gorgeous, and Mike would be tempted to take a picture if it wouldn't freak Kevin out, but it probably would. Besides, he has more important things to be doing.

At the first touch of Mike's lubed fingertips to his skin, Kevin tenses up again, but it's short-lived this time and he takes a deep breath before Mike can prompt him to. Mike waits for him to exhale, then pushes as Kevin's muscles loosen, taking his finger in past the second knuckle.

"Oh," Kevin says, kind of shocky. He props himself up on his elbows, trying to see, which makes the angle a little bit awkward, but nothing Mike can't deal with. He thrusts in and out slowly, working his finger inside and forcing Kevin's muscles to adjust to the penetration. Kevin's eyelids flutter. " _Oh,_ " he says again, and yeah, that's the sound Mike was hoping for.

"Okay?" Mike checks, and Kevin smiles.

"I'm good," he says. "It's a little weird, but it doesn't hurt."

Mike pauses. "If it starts to, you fucking tell me, okay? It's not supposed to hurt."

"I will," Kevin confirms, then wiggles impatiently. "Keep going."

Mike leans up to claim another kiss, then slowly removes his finger, ignoring Kevin's protesting noise. A little more lube, then he places his index and middle fingers against Kevin's hole.

"I'm gonna start stretching you out, okay? So tell me if it's too much," he says, then pushes steadily in with both fingers, twisting a little. Kevin slips off his elbows, falling back onto the mattress with a groan. Mike knows that groan, and it only means good things. Kevin's cock is fully hard again, leaking precome onto his belly, and it jerks when Mike twists his fingers experimentally. Kevin opens up easily for him, the gentle scissoring motion Mike adds to his thrusts eliciting whimpers and groans as Kevin pushes back against his hand.

"Fuck," Mike breathes. Kevin's eyes had gone half-lidded, but he opens them and meets Mike's gaze. "Look at you. You're loving this, aren't you?"

Kevin's eyes go wide and he takes his lower lip in his teeth to stifle another whimper, his flush deepening. _Embarrassed,_ Mike's not too far gone with lust to realize, and no, that's not right at all. Mike stills his hand, dipping his head to kiss the inside of Kevin's thigh.

"Shhh," he soothes, stroking his fingers in and out of Kevin slowly, "It's good, you're good. You're beautiful, Kevin," he says, and Kevin's flush keeps getting deeper but it's not embarrassment anymore. "God, you're a fucking natural. I bet you could come just from this," Mike says wonderingly, because fuck, Kevin looks most of the way there already, and Mike hasn't even found his prostate yet.

"I don't--" Kevin shakes his head, reaching down to grab at Mike's wrist. "I wanted-- _please,_ " Kevin begs, not entirely coherent, but Mike remembers. _I wanted to come with you inside me._ He pulls his fingers out of Kevin slowly.

"I'm a lot bigger than two fingers," he warns.

"You shouldn't brag," Kevin giggles, and Mike smiles wryly at him and smacks his knee lightly with his non-lubed hand.

"Hush. It's your choice. I can keep stretching you out, or I can fuck you now." Kevin's dick gives another twitch at that, and Mike smiles. "I think you can take it, but it might hurt."

Kevin licks his lips, dropping his gaze to stare at Mike's erection, so visible the way he's kneeling. He hesitates, obviously considering, and Mike waits for him to make up his mind. He can tell the second Kevin's sure of his decision; the set of his shoulders changes, the line of his mouth.

"Fuck me," he says, locking eyes with Mike, and _Christ_ he has to reach down and squeeze the base of his cock to keep from coming right then. Kevin's got this satisfied, cheeky little smile flitting across his face; he did that on purpose. Mike dives at him playfully, pinning him down and kissing the self-satisfaction off of him while Kevin laughs and grins at him between kisses.

The condoms are up by Kevin's shoulder, and Mike reaches up to tear one off the strip, opening the packet with his teeth since his fingers are still slippery. He's about to pull it out when Kevin asks shyly, "Can I--?" gesturing at it.

"You want to?" Mike asks, not really asking since he's handing the condom to Kevin at the same time. Kevin nods, pulling it out and tossing the wrapper onto the floor. Mike leans back on his heels to give Kevin room to sit up. Kevin's hands are shaking a little as he rolls the condom on, and Mike has to fight to hold himself still while Kevin's fingers smooth the latex over his cock. Mike's more than ready; he's been resisting the urge to touch himself since he got Kevin naked, knowing there was no way he would last long enough for this if he did.

"How should I--?" Kevin shifts on the bed and gestures with one hand, and Mike realizes he's asking about _position_ which he honestly hadn't thought about in any kind of detail.

"Hands and knees will be easiest for you," Mike says after a moment of deliberation, but Kevin almost immediately sucks his lower lip between his teeth, glancing down at the comforter. Mike reaches out to touch his cheek, turning his attention back. "Talk to me, Kevin," he demands.

"I want to see you," Kevin admits, and Mike nods -- he can work with that. It takes another moment's thought, running through positions in his head.

He grins at Kevin, shifting on the bed so he'll have space to lie back. "Come here," Mike instructs, pulling Kevin along. Kevin looks confused, and his befuddled expression is adorable but confusion isn't what Mike's after, here. "You get to be on top," he explains, reaching out to encourage Kevin to move his leg, and then Kevin's sitting astride Mike's hips, his eyes widening as understanding dawns.

"Are you sure?" Kevin asks, his voice as shaky as his hands had been.

Mike nods, palming the undersides of Kevin's thighs to encourage him to lean forward. "Yeah, I'm sure. You'll see. And if you don't like it, we'll try something different."

Kevin follows his urging, and Mike scrabbles to find the lube, finally locating it and pouring most of what's left in the tiny bottle out into his hand. He spreads it liberally over his sheathed cock, then lets the rest dribble down to his fingertips. He spreads Kevin's cheeks with one hand and dips his lube-coated fingertips inside Kevin's body again while Kevin lets out a breathy little sigh. He's still slick and almost-but-not-quite loose enough; even if it doesn't hurt him, Kevin's going to be feeling this later.

Satisfied that Kevin's as ready as he's going to be, Mike fists his cock, holding himself steady.

"Okay," he says, leaning up to give Kevin one last kiss before that becomes something more athletic than Kevin's probably ready for. "Lean back, just a little. Slowly," he instructs, and Kevin does what he says. He gasps when he feels Mike's cock against his ass, taking a couple of deep breaths while Mike lines himself up, the head of his cock just nudging at Kevin's entrance.

  


**~oOo~**  


Kevin swallows hard, the terrifying anticipation of Mike's cock, snugged up against him like this, sending fluttering waves of nervous energy through his whole body. Mike feels huge, and Kevin nearly re-thinks his decision except, wow, the look on Mike's face, and if he backs out now he doesn't know when he'll have this courage again.

"Hey," Mike says, sensing his hesitation, lifting the hand that isn't holding his cock steady up to rest on Kevin's hip. "Go as slow as you want. Whatever you're ready for." Kevin has a brief flash of fear that maybe he isn't ready for anything, but Mike's fingers had been so good... He takes a deep breath, and lets himself sink backwards.

There's _pressure_ , so much pressure; it's the main thing he's conscious of, until the pressure builds up and the tip of Mike's cock starts pushing into him, stretching him wide, then even wider. It doesn't hurt exactly, but it _burns_. Kevin can't help his gasp at the intensity of it; it's almost too much, God, it's like Mike's dick is splitting him open, and Mike is groaning, still holding himself steady and really obviously trying not to thrust his hips upward. It's too much, too much, _too much_ , and then suddenly the pressure is less, and the head of Mike's cock is _inside him_ and Kevin has to stop, panting and trembling as he plants his hands on the bed next to Mike's shoulders and breathes.

Both of Mike's hands are free now, and he uses them to grip the backs of Kevin's thighs, helping him support his own weight. "Okay?" he asks, and Kevin can't form words but he can nod. It's... he doesn't even know how to describe it. His body hasn't adjusted yet, and the way his ass feels, stretched around Mike's cock--it's obscene, in the most sublime way.

"You're so tight, fuck. You feel incredible." Mike fingers flex on his thighs, and Kevin lifts his head a little so he can look Mike in the eyes. They're both sweaty and a little tired and they're only on the cusp of what could be considered 'fucking', but somehow it's a _moment_ , and Kevin's going to remember it for the rest of his life.

He takes the shaft of Mike's cock in slow half-inches, trying to keep his breathing steady and letting Mike help support him. It's different than that first penetration. Mike's cock is thicker at the base, but not by too much; instead of the relentless pressure and burn of his ass stretching around Mike, Kevin can try to focus on the sensation of Mike's cock moving in him, electrifying nerves he didn't even know he had, until finally his ass is flush against Mike's hips. Kevin feels so _full_ , like it's a good thing Mike isn't any bigger because there's no way he could take any more, but then he shifts, straightening his spine so he's closer to vertical, and Mike groans under him as his cock sinks in even deeper.

"You're right," Kevin pants, trying to get his breathing under control, "It's definitely-- bigger than two fingers--," and then he's laughing and smiling down at Mike, because Mike's all the way inside him. This is sex, this is sex with _Mike_ , and Kevin's heart is so full he has to laugh or he might explode.

"I warned you," Mike says, and Kevin loves the way his voice sounds, wrecked and husky and distracted, like it's taking all of his concentration to form actual words. Maybe too much of his concentration, because he loses whatever iron control he'd had over his hips. They twitch upward, lifting Kevin up no more than an inch, but oh, gosh, he hasn't ever felt anything that... _wow._

"Do that again!" Kevin commands, and Mike grins at him and flexes his hips upward and Kevin suddenly understands why everyone seems so crazy about sex all the time. Sex is _awesome_.

"You gonna make me do all the work?" Mike asks. He doesn't sound like he actually minds very much, but Kevin had sort of forgotten he _could_ move; it's like his brain is shorting out or something. Carefully, his thigh muscles straining from the unfamiliar movement, he lifts himself up, gasping at the slide of Mike's cock pulling out of him.

"Not all the way," Mike says, gripping Kevin's hips to guide him. He stills when he feels the flare of Mike's cockhead, the barely-there resistance, and then Mike's guiding him back down, tilting his hips just so, and then Mike's cock brushes over... something, something, Kevin didn't know _anything_ could feel like that, the sharp burst of pleasure rushing up his spine and back down to his dick, which had gone a little soft through the burn and stretch of Mike entering him for the first time. He's fully hard again almost instantly, his fingers searching for and finding Mike's shoulders, digging in.

"Oh, God," he moans out, and he feels a twinge of guilt for using the Lord's name like that, but whatever that was, God gave it to him. Kevin quickly categorizes it as a prayer of thanks. "What was-- _Mike!_ " He follows Mike's hands as they guide him up, then tilt him the same way as he slides down onto Mike's cock again. It's like fireworks and Christmas and the first orgasm he ever had, all muddled together and mixed with chocolate.

"I think we found your prostate," Mike snickers for a second but then he cuts himself off by groaning loudly, because Kevin is a quick learner and now he knows which angle to use when he lifts himself until he feels that tug then slides down again, arching his back so Mike's cock drags over that place inside him.

The positioning, the movement, is still unfamiliar, but it doesn't take Kevin very long to figure out what works; he can let the bed do some of the work, trusting the mattress to help bounce him upward. His erection slaps against his belly, leaving a mess of precome all over him, but Kevin doesn't care. He doesn't care at all, because he's riding Mike's cock, fucking himself on it so it brushes against that spot, over and over, and he's shaking so hard it's threatening to break his rhythm. He can feel his orgasm creeping up on him and he's helpless to resist; he wants this to last forever, but oh, God, does he want to come. He's right on the edge of it but he needs _more_.

"Mike," he gasps. Mike's been looking at him this whole time, drinking in the sight of him, and Kevin loves the feeling of Mike's eyes on him but he needs something more substantial. Mike's fingers are still clenched to Kevin's thighs; he's going to have bruises, and he can't wait to see them.

"What do you need, baby?" Mike asks, with a pointed thrust of his hips that messes up Kevin's rhythm but feels so good.

"I need--" Kevin says between gasps, "Your hand-- touch me?" He can _feel_ the way Mike's cock twitches at that, and a second later one of Mike's hands leaves his thigh and then his fingers are wrapping around Kevin's dick, gripping just the way Kevin likes.

"Like this?" Mike asks, his voice low and ragged, "You want me to jerk you off while you ride me?" Kevin doesn't know what it is; it's just what they're _doing_ , but the way Mike says it makes it sound so hot and so illicit that he can't help but shudder.

"Yesss," he hisses as Mike strokes him with just the right amount of pressure and that turn of his wrist that makes Kevin's toes curl. "Mike, Mike, I'm gonna--"

"Yeah? Come on, Kev," Mike encourages, flexing his hips just slightly off-time and rubbing his thumb against the sensitive head of Kevin's cock, "I wanna watch you come, wanna see you..."

Kevin bucks into Mike's fist, moaning as he pulls almost completely off Mike's dick. As he sits back, Mike thrusts up _hard_ and just like that Kevin's coming, his ass flush against Mike's hipbones with Mike's cock buried inside him, his back arched and his muscles clenching so hard it almost hurts. Kevin hears someone shouting at a distance, but he only realizes it's _him_ a split-second before everything goes sort of white and fuzzy and _wonderful_. Hot stripes of come splatter across Mike's chest and stomach while Kevin shakes apart, Mike stroking his orgasm out of him until he's completely spent.

He's vaguely aware that Mike is rolling them over, and when he comes back to himself he's on his back and Mike's hovering over him, still _in_ him and still hard.

"Wrap your legs around me," Mike tells him once he's coherent enough, and it's a struggle because none of Kevin's muscles want to do anything but relax in post-coital bliss, but he manages it with Mike's hands guiding him, settling with his thighs riding just above Mike's hips. Then Mike's got Kevin's body tilted up and he's thrusting in, fucking Kevin hard and it feels so good, even though there's no way Kevin can come again for a while.

"So fucking beautiful, Kev, Kevin, _fuck_ ," Mike groans, pounding into him in fast, hard strokes. Kevin feels the pulse of Mike's cock in him when Mike comes, his hips stuttering against Kevin, his cock so deep inside. " _Kev,_ " Mike growls as he fills the condom, his grip on Kevin's ass harsh and claiming. He doesn't quite collapse on top of Kevin, but he slumps against him, shaking through the last of it.

They pause there for several long moments, breathing together in the pre-dawn quiet, the smell of sweat and come thick in the air. Mike claims Kevin's mouth with his own, parting Kevin's lips with his tongue. Even kissing feels different, all of a sudden, but maybe it's just the lingering post-orgasmic haze. Either way, the touch of Mike's lips to his own is bliss.

"This is gonna feel weird," Mike warns as he breaks the kiss and sits back on his knees; about as far as he can get with Kevin's legs still mostly wrapped around his waist. He lowers a hand down to where they're still joined and slowly pulls out of Kevin's body, careful to hold the condom onto his softening cock. It _does_ feel weird. It actually sort of hurts, and Kevin winces, not expecting that. Mike ties off the condom and tosses it in the general direction of the trash can, then his hands are back on Kevin, keeping him spread open. There's not much lube left, but Mike finds some and uses a gentle finger to spread it over his hole. Kevin can't help the whimper that escapes; the sex didn't hurt, not really, so how can _this_?

"Shhh," Mike's finger leaves him and Mike leans up, shifts them around so they're both on their sides, and quiets Kevin with more soft kisses. "You're all swollen up," he says, something possessive and satisfied in his voice, and Kevin can feel that he is, yeah, and he's going to be feeling it for a while. He _aches_. "It'll be fine, though," Mike assures him, and Kevin scoots closer to cuddle against Mike's chest, not caring that his come is still drying on Mike's skin.

"You okay?" Mike asks, wrapping Kevin up in a warm embrace. He sounds almost hesitant, and Kevin snuggles in even closer.

"Yeah," he sighs, trying to find the words to express everything he wants to say. He's not sure the words even _exist_. "That was... amazing," he finally settles on, punctuating it with a kiss to Mike's shoulder. Mike hugs him harder for a second.

"Good," he says. "I wanted it to be. Y'know, since it was..." he continues, fading into somewhat awkward mumbling that Kevin finds more than a little endearing.

 _My first time,_ Kevin mentally fills in, warmth filling up his chest. He's not a virgin anymore. That's... a little bit weird, actually, but...

Kevin lays a hand flat against Mike's shoulder, shoving him over onto his back, then sprawls out over half his chest. It puts Mike into that ideal position where Kevin can hold him down and kiss him thoroughly.

"Thank you," he says, after a few minutes where his mouth was otherwise occupied. Mike smiles up at him, his lips shiny and a little bit kiss-bruised. He lifts a hand to run his fingers through Kevin's hair, pushing sweaty curls off his forehead.

"Move a little," he says, using his hip to nudge Kevin off him. Kevin's almost hurt, until he realizes that Mike's tugging on the comforter, pulling it out from under the pillows they haven't managed to knock off onto the floor. Mike slips under and holds the blankets up for Kevin, a silent encouragement to take up his previous position again. The sheets are soft and Mike is warm and comfortable, and Kevin yawns, suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. A glance at the clock on the nightstand only confirms just how few hours he has until he needs to rejoin his family.

"Get some rest," Mike says, resting his hand lightly on the jut of Kevin's hipbone. "I've got the alarm set for nine." Kevin groans as his brain fuzzily computes the hours, burying his face against Mike's chest. He feels Mike chuckle, and he might be saying something, but Kevin is already asleep.

  


**~oOo~**  


Mike smacks the alarm clock into Snooze mode with reflexes born of years and years of touring, slowly cracking one eye at a time open to adjust to the dim morning light. The curtains in this place are good, Mike will give them that. No annoying beam of sunlight shining directly in their eyes.

Kevin is breathing noisily, just a hair's breadth away from actual snoring, and he's drooling on Mike's chest a little bit. It's inhumanly cute. Like puppies or something, and fuck, Mike is really so far gone over Kevin that he sometimes wonders where his balls wandered off to, but then, he thinks he's willing to live without his balls if it means keeping Kevin.

He scratches his blunt fingernails over the back of Kevin's head, and Kevin makes a happy, barely-waking-up noise.

"Gotta get up, Kev," he says quietly, shaking Kevin by means of a full-body wiggle.

Getting Kevin moving in the morning isn't an event, it's a process. It's not one Mike's had anywhere near enough opportunity to practice, but he's getting the hang of it. The alarm clock blares twice more before Kevin is awake enough to sit up and rub his palms over his face, making grumpy little sounds the whole time. Mike takes the opportunity to turn the alarm off so he doesn't have to keep hitting the Snooze button over and over.

Kevin manages to get to the edge of the bed himself, but Mike has to go around and help haul him up, which is when Kevin gasps and winces. Mike knows the corners of his mouth are twitching upwards, but he stops himself from laughing.

"Sore?" He asks, resting his hands on Kevin's ribs. Kevin's head falls forward onto his shoulder, and Mike breathes out to keep Kevin's unruly curls from invading his mouth.

"Ow." Kevin says, and Mike rubs a hand over the bare skin of his back and says, "Shower."

Kevin allows himself to be led into the bathroom, leaning most of his weight on Mike while Mike messes with the settings to get the shower to the right temperature. He's glad they're both still naked; it saves him the trouble of getting Kevin out of his clothes while he's still half asleep. Getting Kevin over the edge of the tub takes some balancing, but soon they're both inside and Mike can stick Kevin under the spray and pull the curtain shut.

"Mmmm," Kevin purrs as the hot water flattens his hair and runs over his shoulders--the fact that he's standing there on his own lets Mike know that he's not so much 'still asleep' as letting himself stay only half-awake, which means he's in the mood to let Mike take care of him. Mike's good with that.

He turns them around, putting his back to the showerhead and pulling Kevin's back to his chest, and reaches for the tiny bottle of hotel shampoo on the ledge. He washes both their hair at the same time, doing his best not to get too turned on by the contented little groans Kevin makes as Mike's fingers massage his scalp. Even if Kevin wants to, Mike's not gonna fuck him again so soon, not when he's still sore, and especially not when they don't have very much time.

As he ducks them both under the spray to rinse the bubbles out, though, the thought occurs that there's plenty of other things they could do, and he _does_ want to check to be absolutely sure that Kevin's all right before sending him off. Mike gets the shampoo out of Kevin's hair and goes for the conditioner as quickly as he can, then rinses that out as well, finishing with the business part of the showering experience.

Luckily for his purposes, the hotel has installed one of those towel-slash-grip bars at the far end of the tub, so he lifts Kevin's hands from his sides and directs them to the bar.

"Hold on to that, and spread your legs for me, okay?" Mike says.

Kevin grabs the bar, but he turns his head to look over his shoulder, breaking his self-imposed morning stupor to ask, "Mike?" in a worried tone. Mike shakes his head and kisses the knob of Kevin's spine between his shoulderblades.

"It's okay," he reassures. "I just wanna check you out." And maybe a little more than that, yeah, but what he's thinking of isn't what Kevin's worried about.

"Okay," Kevin nods, spreading his feet as wide as he can get them within the tub. "Is that good?"

"That's perfect," Mike says, kissing a line down Kevin's back as he sinks to his knees. The shower hits him just below his shoulders, and Mike offers silent thanks to whoever designed this bathroom. He owes them a beer or something.

Mike uses both hands to spread Kevin's cheeks, as gently as he can. Kevin takes his cue, folding his forearms along the bar instead of just gripping it. The movement bends him over a few more degrees and then it's easy, because he's all on display.

Kevin's not loose and stretched like he was a few hours before, but his little pink hole is still puffy and _used_ and the sight of it sends a burning tendril of arousal straight to Mike's dick. He twists, using one hand to keep Kevin spread open while he cups the other to collect a handful of water, and pours it over Kevin as carefully as he can. Kevin shivers as the warm water runs over delicate, sensitized skin, that tight ring of muscle clenching for just a second, and Mike's gotta try this 'cause Kevin's body is practically begging for it.

Mike leans in and kisses Kevin's right cheek, then the left. "Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" he says. He can feel Kevin getting ready to ask what he's talking about, and he decides to go for a demonstration instead of an explanation. Kevin's spread out so perfectly, and Mike keeps him spread as he kisses the tender flesh, uses the tip of his tongue to press ever so slightly into Kevin's body.

Kevin makes a squeaking noise at the first flick of Mike's tongue against his skin. He bends sort of sideways-ish so he can see what's happening, and apparently he figures it out because he groans and shudders and turns back to the wall, resting his forehead on his arms and, consequently, opening himself even further for Mike.

Mike takes full advantage, licking at Kevin's hole and and cataloging every whimper and moan Kevin makes, the way his muscles twitch and his thighs shake when Mike's tongue finds the most sensitive places. Kevin's hips jerk, limited by his locked knees and the way he's bent over, but Mike can tell he's hard and probably dripping precome, humping the air. He kisses Kevin's ass, sloppy and wet, and shifts a hand so he can rub a thumb across the puckered, swollen flesh. Kevin whines, and his hips jerk again.

"You like that?" Mike asks, pressing lightly with the pad of his thumb, enjoying the way it sends a shiver up Kevin's spine. Kevin nods, making an _mmm-hmm_ noise of agreement. "Tell me," Mike orders, pressing a little harder, and Kevin gives a pained little moan.

"Oh, God, it, it kind of hurts," he stutters out, "but it's so, it feels so _good_ , I can't--" He moans again as Mike licks at him, his tongue sliding along the edge where his thumb is firm against Kevin's flesh.

"What do you want?" Mike asks, tonguing Kevin's ass and eliciting tiny whimpers every time he pauses for breath. "You want my fingers? You want my cock? Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fuck you again right here?"

" _Yes_ , God, yes, yes," Kevin's voice is all wrecked, high and hoarse and needy, and he's quivering under Mike's hands, under Mike's lips and tongue. "Anything, please, pleaseplease _please_ ," he begs.

Mike's glad his skin is a little bit soft from the heat and moisture of the shower -- still hot, which is one of the reasons Mike likes hotels. Water is shitty lube, though, so Mike takes one hand off Kevin and sucks his index finger into his mouth, coating it with spit (which isn't much better than water, but it'll do, Mike thinks). Kevin makes a strangled sound as Mike pushes past his sore muscles, licking around where his finger disappears into Kevin's body, coaxing Kevin open with his tongue.

It's not going to take much more to make Kevin come, Mike can tell. He crooks his finger, twists it until Kevin cries out and tightens around him. He keeps his finger on that spot, rubbing against it in short, even strokes while Kevin howls and shakes. Mike loves that Kevin's so loud, so free of inhibition once he gets going. He loves that probably every room on every side of them knows when Kevin comes, his dick still untouched, all over the tiled wall.

Negotiating post-orgasmic Kevin is pretty similar to negotiating still-asleep Kevin, so Mike manages to get them both rinsed off, the shower shut off, and Kevin wrapped up in a fluffy towel, all before Kevin has fully recovered. He hasn't gotten to finding a towel of his own, though, so once Kevin _does_ start functioning again it's really easy for him to reach out and wrap his fingers around Mike's dick.

"You're still hard," Kevin comments, stroking him slowly, and Mike grips the edge of the counter for support, letting his other hand drift up to Kevin's waist.

"Yeah," he says simply, because Kevin's got that gleam in his eye and Mike likes to find out what he's thinking.

"Come on," Kevin says, practically leading him out into the room by his dick, even though Mike's still dripping a little from the shower. He goes, though, and lets Kevin push him down onto the mess of tangled sheets. He quirks an eyebrow as Kevin crawls up onto the mattress, and Kevin grins at him.

"I want breakfast in bed," Kevin announces with that cheeky smile on his face, and Mike laughs until Kevin kisses the underside of his cock, then he's burying his fingers in Kevin's wet hair and groaning as Kevin sucks him off.

  


**~oOo~**  


The red numbers on the alarm clock read somewhere between "running late" and "running really, hideously late" when Kevin finishes licking the traces of come off Mike's cock. Totally worth it, but Big Rob is going to _kill_ him, and probably never let him go anywhere on his own ever again. Mike's still breathing hard, and Kevin leans up to kiss him, then thinks better of it because wait, and also _ew_.

Mike, who had lifted himself to his elbows in anticipation, says, "What's up?" and looks concerned, so Kevin wrinkles his nose at him.

"I'm not kissing you until you brush your teeth," he declares, pouting, and Mike drops back against the sheets with a huff and an exaggerated eyeroll. "What?" Kevin asks, climbing off the bed and beginning the hunt for all the pieces of scattered clothing that belong to him. "I know where your mouth has been!"

Mike rolls off the bed after him, leaving a large, vaguely-Mike-shaped damp spot behind. "It's like you think you're funny," he deadpans, but he grabs Kevin around the waist and kisses the back of his shoulder as he walks past and into the bathroom. Kevin hears the tell-tale sounds of tooth brushing a few moments later, and he smiles as he locates his jeans and slips into them. He really _does_ have to hurry; traffic in Manhattan is always bad, even on holidays, and he's gotta get to the hotel and then they've got a noon photoshoot to get to (Kevin's just glad they'll have clothes at the shoot; he won't be stuck in last night's outfit _all_ day), so being late will throw the whole day's schedule off.

Mike's barely finished rinsing when Kevin invades the bathroom and swipes his toothbrush, then kicks him out entirely so he can make an attempt at drying his hair into a not-too-awful shape. By the time he finishes, Mike's pulled on a clean pair of jeans from his open suitcase, and is lounging shirtless and barefoot against the headboard.

"Am I allowed to kiss you now?" He asks, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.

"I'd be sad all day if you didn't," Kevin says, only half joking. He has to go, but he doesn't want to. He wants to stay right here, with Mike. Maybe forever, if he could get away with it.

"Can't have that," Mike murmurs, and Kevin wraps his arms around Mike's neck and lets himself be drawn in. For all that he has to leave, probably should have left five or ten minutes before, he doesn't mind that Mike keeps their kisses tender and unhurried. When they finally break apart, Kevin can't help clinging, just a little, and Mike hugs him tight.

"Call me tonight," Mike says, kissing his temple, and Kevin nods.

"I will," he says. "I've gotta go..." He adds sadly, and Mike squeezes him once for good measure before releasing him.

"Go on," Mike tells him, dropping a quick kiss on his lips, then turning him toward the door. The click of the lock disengaging as Kevin turns the handle is like a lead weight dropping into his stomach.

"Mike," he says uncertainly, then Mike's got him pinned against the door, licking into his mouth with all the urgency their earlier kisses had lacked. Kevin moans and opens up for him, and it's fantastic, this feeling.

"You have to go," Mike says, his lips brushing over Kevin's as he speaks, though he seems pretty reluctant to let Kevin have room to move. "But I'll talk to you later, okay?" And then he's pushing down on the door handle and there's that click again and one last press of lips, and Kevin's out in the hallway, already just a little bit lonely even though Mike's probably all of six inches away.

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to get moving; the doorman of the hotel whistles him up a cab and Kevin stares out the window as New York City slowly crawls by, the store windows still sporting most of their holiday glitz. Kevin can't shake the strange sort of unsettledness in his bones. It's like his skin isn't on quite right, or somebody bent the world a little to the left. He fights down the rising temptation to tell the cabbie to turn around -- Mike wouldn't actually turn him away, no matter all the problems it would cause his family if he never showed up, and Kevin is feeling ambivalent about seeing his parents, and dealing with his brothers.

There's no visible marks on his skin, no public advertisement of what he spent the night doing. Mike's been conscientious about that, after Kevin told him what a hassle the cover-up was to deal with, so he walks away from the night with a set of beautiful, finger-shaped bruises on the backs of his thighs and the residual aching of his ass, a constant reminder that Mike had been _in_ him. Nothing anyone could _see_ , but Kevin worries all the same that they'll _know_ , with that preternatural sense that family sometimes has, and that his family seems to have more than most. And if they know, then... Kevin has no idea what would happen, if they _knew_.

He can count on Joe, he knows, because Joe has told him that about ten billion times since Kevin absolutely confirmed (mostly by being shirtless on top of Mike in the back lounge of the bus) that yeah, he was dating a guy, and that guy was Mike. Nick is so much harder to read, though. Kevin kind of wishes that Nick was still as expressive as he was at twelve or thirteen, when he hadn't yet learned how to keep his emotions off his face; it would be easier to tell what his long silences and serious expressions mean. Even if he disapproves, Kevin thinks, at least he hasn't told their parents. His mom and dad would be... probably angry. Maybe even betrayed, like they are in Kevin's least-favorite what-if imaginings. Kevin doesn't regret it; he doesn't regret Mike, and he doesn't regret having sex, but he maybe regrets that his parents haven't even properly met the guy he's, officially now, sleeping with.

The cab is only two-and-a-half blocks away from Columbus Circle when Kevin's phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and taps through to read the text message, preemptively wincing because it's probably from his dad or Big Rob or Nick wondering where he is, but it's not. _I love you_ , the text reads, and Kevin grips his phone tightly and holds on as the unsettled pieces of him jostle around, slip and slide and fall back into place. _It'll be okay,_ he thinks, because no matter what else, Kevin still believes that God will take care of him, and that everything will happen the way it's meant to. He still has faith.

What he doesn't have, unfortunately, is time, and he's barely managed to hit send on _I love you too_ when Big Rob spots him in the cab and comes over to hustle him out of it, paying the driver out of his own wallet, which Kevin makes a mental note to pay him back for later.

"You're late," Rob says, clapping him on the back hard and unexpectedly enough that Kevin almost stumbles. He doesn't actually sound angry, though, which is a relief.

"Sorry," Kevin says, trying to look contrite. He's not sure if it works, but Big Rob just chuckles.

"Rough morning?" He asks, with a conspiratorial wink, and Kevin has a brief flash of panic that he _knows_ before Big Rob continues, at a nearly-too-loud whisper that's unfortunately necessary with the traffic going by, "Joe's got aspirin and a bottle of water in the car for you," and Kevin realizes that the only thing he thinks Kevin's guilty of is drinking too much. He tries, probably without much success, to turn his contrite face into an I-have-a-headache face.

"Thanks, man," Kevin says, and Big Rob smiles as he herds Kevin over to the big black SUV that already holds Joe and Nick and their dad.

His dad swivels in his seat, turning to look at Kevin as he climbs in. They left the seat next to the door empty, so he doesn't have to clamber over his brothers.

"Kevin, I have to tell you that I'm disappointed," he says, in his serious manager voice, which Kevin remembers perfectly well because it's also his serious dad voice, pulled out and dusted off every time someone got in trouble at school, or came home covered in mud, or whatever. Okay, the last one was pretty much just Joe, but it's still that same dad-voice. "I hoped you were responsible enough to keep yourself on schedule."

Kevin tries for 'contrite' again, but he's not sure it works. For one, he can just _tell_ that Joe is barely keeping himself from making stupid faces, and that 'barely' is because their dad is actually looking at them and he would definitely get caught. He hears Nick's foot connect with the back of Joe's seat, and Joe's quiet _oof_ , and forces down a smile.

"I'm sorry, dad," Kevin says. "I kind of got a slow start, but I didn't expect traffic to be as bad as it was." The clock in the dashboard of the SUV reads 11:17, so Kevin doesn't actually feel that bad about it. Sometimes they're that late just because Joe couldn't decide which shoes to wear that morning, and Kevin rates extra time with Mike as several orders of magnitude more important than which ridiculous shoes Joe is wearing in any given photoshoot.

Their dad seems to accept that, though, turning back to face the windshield with a dad-ly, non-committal grunt that means Kevin may or may not be off the hook for this, depending on whether the photographer is pissed. Kevin settles back in his seat, holding himself carefully so the soreness in his ass doesn't make him wince too obviously. Joe, as predicted, is making stupid faces, and Kevin smiles at him because he knows that's why Joe's doing it, even though Nick is being grumpy at him from the back seat. Nick never really approves of Joe mocking their dad like that, but he's been known to crack a smile when Joe's faces are for his benefit, so he really can't judge too much.

As Big Rob promised, Joe has a single pack of aspirin and a bottle of stupidly expensive minibar water that he tosses across the gap between their seats. _Thanks,_ Kevin mouths at him, and Joe shoots him a surreptitious thumbs-up and a big grin that says _I am going to expect a story later_ , which means Kevin is going to have to think on his feet and come up with something to tell him. He rips open the packet and swallows the two little pills, despite not actually having a headache. The water is nice, though.

  


**~*~**  


The photoshoot is part of the promos for the TV show, which are mostly being done in L.A., but the photographer is in New York and they're in New York, so even though it's a holiday they managed to schedule this shoot. Nobody really _wants_ to be there, though, which Kevin hopes means they won't be stuck there for several billion hours. They're running late, but the photographer's running even later, so Kevin ducks into the dressing room with his brothers, relieved that he doesn't have to endure a lecture about responsibility and punctuality.

Their outfits are laid out for them; lots of the now-familiar blue plaid that comprises most of the costumes for the show. Kevin changes quickly, hoping his brothers aren't looking closely enough to see the lurid bruises on the pale skin of his upper thighs. (They're not.) He moves over to the big lighted mirrors to fix his tie, which always takes at least two tries despite how much practice he's had at it, and it's only when he's trying to remember which loop goes where that he notices the conspicuously bare skin of his left ring finger.

_Oh God._

Kevin sees his own eyes go wide as he stares into the mirror, the tie dangling half-tied from his abruptly loosened grip. His _ring_. His _purity ring_ which is, oh God, in his _boyfriend's jeans_ , all the way across town. Part of Kevin's brain screams at him to try to act a little less suspicious, since staring slack-jawed into the mirror is far from normal behavior, but the much larger and apparently more-in-charge part of his brain decides to simply stand there like an idiot and also to stop breathing for a few seconds.

"Kevin?" Nick's voice breaks through the haze of grayness that was seeping into the edges of Kevin's vision, and he gulps a mouthful of air. Nick's standing next to him, his own tie looped around his neck, and Joe's just behind him wearing a sweater-vest, because Joe should only be trusted with ties when there's a team of costume people around to deal with it for him. They're wearing twin expressions of concern.

Kevin wordlessly holds up his ring-less hand, watching in the mirror as enlightenment dawns on his brothers. Joe says, "Oh. _Ohhh,_ " as his expression flickers from happy to sad, from surprise to concern to something that might even be pride. Nick just sets his jaw, his face unreadable, saying nothing, and it occurs to Kevin for the first time that maybe Nick doesn't just parrot their dad's Values Speech because he feels like he should. Maybe Nick actually isn't okay with him, with him and Mike, at _all_.

In the face of a second and equally overwhelming wave of nausea-inducing panic, Kevin decides the better part of valor is to sit down on the dressing room floor and practice breathing until his body remembers how to do it on its own. He hears Joe say, "I'll figure out something to tell Dad; give me a minute," and feels a hand on his shoulder for a brief second, hears the dressing room door open and shut again.

Breathing. Breathing is good.

  


**~oOo~**  


Mike is halfway through packing his stuff when he finds the ring. He's folding up his dirty jeans--well, okay, more like wadding them up in a slightly more organized way--when it falls from the front pocket, clinking against the hotel dresser and bouncing away to settle in the middle of the carpet. He bends down to grab it on reflex, and he's already got it in hand when the implications hit him full-force. _Fuck,_ Mike thinks, because shit, Kevin's got fucking public appearances today...

He pulls out his cell and sends off a quick text-- _u forgot something, want me to bring it?_ \--which should be suitably obscure given that Kevin's probably surrounded by his family and their horde of assistants and associates by now. He stares at his phone for a few seconds, waiting, but when it becomes apparent that Kevin isn't going to text him back immediately, he sets it down and finishes packing up his shit. He's going out with the guys for lunch at some place Sisky claims has the best pizza in the whole city (and they all figure, at this point, that Sisky would know), and he's got a flight back to Chicago at four.

He's about ready to head down to drop his bag off with the concierge when his phone buzzes. A quick check of the clock confirms that he's got time to get to wherever Kevin is and not be too late to lunch, probably, but while the text is from Kevin's phone, it's not from Kevin.

_Kevs freakin out but tis under cntrl. -j_

Mike groans. That tells him absolutely nothing. He has a brief spike of hope when his phone buzzes again a second later, but it's quickly dashed.

_gettin replacemnt sent. PS congrats u 2! -j_

Mike cancels out of his inbox and makes a mental note to call Kevin later, just to make sure everything is okay, and then slips both the ring and his phone into his pocket. He is absolutely not going to contemplate that he now lives in a world where _Joe Jonas_ is congratulating him on his sex life.

  


**~oOo~**  


(January 10, 2009)

ONTD has the story less than a week later, and from there it spreads to the fan communities and blogs and just about everywhere else. Kevin Sr. gets a pinched look around his eyes that Nick seems to have inherited, and Kevin spends several days cursing the existence of telephoto lenses that not only caught him getting out of the cab at Trump International, but caught his bare left ring finger, too.

"It's not as bad as it could be," Kevin admits when he finally gets a chance to get away from the Jonas family-Disney coalition war council long enough to call Mike. "They don't have pictures of us or anything."

"Yeah," Mike agrees. He's made his own escape, Kevin knows, to get away from his bandmates for a few minutes. They're getting ready to go on tour, which means they've been rehearsing almost non-stop. It makes Kevin feel a little better about how crazy his own schedule is, that Mike's is almost as bad at the moment. "Could be a lot worse. You doing okay?"

Kevin takes a deep, slow breath. "Yeah. Dad's really upset, but not at me, mostly. They want me to make a public statement on the blog or something, before the Inauguration concert. Like, tomorrow or the next day, probably."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, then Mike says, delicately for Mike, "If you have to lie, that's okay with me. Do whatever you need to do, Kev."

Kevin nods, knowing that Mike can't see him, but he has a feeling Mike knows anyway. "I don't want to," he says in a small voice.

"...You sure about that?" Mike says, probably without thinking about it too hard, Kevin thinks, because his tone is sort of weird and surprised and half bitten-off like he didn't meant to let that out. But not... not _negative_ , and that sends a thrill through Kevin, but it quickly coalesces into a ball of terror deep in his stomach.

"No," Kevin admits after a moment, his voice cracking a little. No, he's nowhere _near_ ready for that, but he can be not-ready and still not want to lie, exactly, he thinks.

"Fuck," Mike swears softly, which means he probably didn't mean for Kevin to actually hear it. "Sorry, look--I meant what I said. Whatever you need to do, Kev. It's just PR stuff, it doesn't mean anything. Don't worry about it."

"Love you," Kevin says, the words themselves taking some of the weight off him. "I'm--I wish I was braver," he admits, and he can't quite identify the sound Mike makes at that.

"Don't make me fly out there and punch you for being _stupid_ ," Mike says a second later. "We leave for tour tomorrow; Bill would kill both of us."

"That would be bad," Kevin says with a stunted laugh, but it's the first time he's laughed since the pictures went up, and it feels awkward but good.

  


**~oOo~**  


(January 11, 2009)

_Hey guys! I'm sure you've heard the rumors that have been going around, but I wanted to set the record straight. People have been saying all sorts of stuff about me not wearing my ring on New Years' Day, but the truth is, I slept late after spending New Years with friends, and I was in such a hurry I totally forgot to put it on. Oops! I definitely didn't mean to cause such a big fuss; I'm sorry if you guys have been confused!_

_As always, our fans mean the world to us, and we hope you won't believe everything the press says! Thanks to those of you who've stuck with us._

_If you haven't heard, we're VERY excited to be performing at the Kids' Inaugural: We are the Future concert in just a few days! It'll be airing January 19th at 8pm ET on the Disney Channel, and we hope you'll all be watching._

_-Kevin_

  


**~oOo~**  


(February 2009)

 _I think if i mess up nick will die of embarrassment before he can kill me_ Kevin texts while Joe does his push-ups backstage and Nick winds himself tighter and tighter inside. Kevin's not actually worried about it; Joe will force hugs on him until he loosens up, just in time to go out and play. Kevin's given up on figuring out Joe's superpowers, but he's thankful for them. Nick would have snapped from internal tension a long time ago if Joe wasn’t magic, after all.

 _youll be great_ Mike texts back. He's not in the audience for the Grammys, but he's watching from his sofa, Kevin knows. Kevin's a little disappointed not to see him in person, but TAI... just finished their tour down the east coast, and Kevin can't begrudge his boyfriend some recovery time. _if u mess up_ , Mike texts again a few seconds later, _blame joe._

Kevin laughs, and Joe looks up from his push-ups. He grins when he spots the phone in Kevin's hand.

"Say hi for me!" he proclaims, finishing a few more reps before standing up and brushing his palms off.

Kevin obediently types _joe says hi_ , and does his best to ignore Nick, who's gone even more tense and is carefully not-looking at Kevin. Luckily, Joe's superpowers kick in, and he tackle-hugs Nick against the wall before he can grab his guitar. Mike's _hi joe_ text comes through a few seconds before Joe lets Nick escape, and Kevin doesn't know _how_ Joe does that, but Nick looks a lot less like he's going to snap himself in half.

Whatever Joe said or did doesn't stop Nick from frowning when Kevin tells Joe, "Mike says hi," though. Kevin puts his phone away and slings his guitar across his hips. He really needs to talk to Nick, he knows. It's gotta happen. But he can't help wanting to put it off as long as possible.

The thing is, Kevin doesn't want to talk to Nick. Not about Mike, anyway. He values his brothers' opinions more than anyone else's -- more than their parents', more than Mike's, even, though Mike's opinion is pretty high on Kevin's list of opinion-priorities -- and as long as they don't talk about it, he can try to pretend that Nick's stone faces and disapproving frowns are unrelated to his boyfriend, or his having a boyfriend, or really anything involving Kevin and boys. He can try to pretend that Nick has just had really bad indigestion for... um. A year. Or so. That has gotten markedly worse since New Year's.

The more Kevin thinks about it, the more depressing it is. And talking about it... well, it might help. It's supposed to. Everyone always says that communication is important. They're usually talking about romantic relationships, yeah, but being brothers _and_ being in a band together means they're all so close, so tight with each other. They've never _not_ been able to talk about things before. So Kevin should suck it up like the oldest brother he is, and talk to Nick about him and Mike and whatever Nick's problem is with them. Except, if he does that, then it's out there, and it's more than just a Values Speech moment. Kevin has terrifying daydreams about all the ways this could tear them apart; as a band, as a family--it's almost the same thing, anyway.

As long as Nick is content to stew about it in his own head, and Joe still has the ability to bring him out of it when necessary, Kevin's content to let sleeping dogs lie. Especially when they're big, possibly-rabid dogs with very pointy teeth.

  


**~*~**  


Unfortunately, Kevin strategy of total avoidance can't last forever, and in fact it only lasts a couple of weeks, because they're going to be in New York for Valentine's Day, filming Saturday Night Live (which Mike declared _fucking awesome!_ , and Kevin totally agrees with the sentiment if not the language), and Mike can come out to meet him. Which is amazing and wonderful and Kevin already has plenty of highly inappropriate fantasies about what they can do with a too-rare night together. Unfortunately, there's a catch, and it comes in the form of Big Rob, who will be handling security as usual. Which means he'll be doing important things like making sure no one suspicious gets into their suite at the hotel, and Kevin will freely admit that if you don't know him, Mike could easily be placed in the category of 'suspicious'. ...Especially if he's going to be coming to Kevin's room in the middle of the night.

So Kevin is forced to sit down and have an extremely uncomfortable conversation that begins with, "Hey, Rob, could I talk to you for a minute? Like, privately?" and rapidly becomes not a 'conversation', exactly, but more of a Kevin-babbles-for-a-long-time-and-someone-listens.

"...so the point, I mean, why I'm telling you all this, not that I wouldn't have told you, y'know, eventually, but the reason I'm telling you _now_ is that Mike's gonna come to New York for Valentine's Day, when we're there, and wewerehopinghecouldspendthenight." Kevin finishes in a rush, partially because fast is the only way he'll get it out, and partially because he's kind of out of breath. "Um. With me, I mean," he clarifies, "In the suite, 'cause, um, we...kind of, um,"

Rob holds a hand up. "I don't need to know that much, Kev," he says, and Kevin blushes and shuts his mouth, but Big Rob doesn't seem mad, or disgusted, or any of the many possible reactions Kevin had tried to prepare himself for. "Do your parents know about this?" he asks instead, and Kevin's blush rapidly disappears.

"No!" Kevin nearly shouts, calming himself almost immediately, though Rob already looks more than a little surprised. "Oh, gosh, _please_ don't tell them! I couldn't--I'm not ready for that yet," he admits, and Rob gives him a look that would be patronizing on almost anyone else, but feels a lot more paternal, and Kevin's glad of it.

"Hey," Rob says, shrugging. "You're an adult. You want him on the list--" he stops at Kevin's panicked look "--the _mental_ list, he's on it. Got a picture?" Rob asks, and Kevin does. It's just the two of them, snapped with his cell phone months ago and not set as his wallpaper for obvious reasons, but in it they're both smiling and happy, and Kevin keeps it on his cell phone even though it's not the most secure place in the world, because it makes him feel better when he misses Mike kind of a lot. Rob looks at the picture for a long minute, thoughtful, then gives a little nod and hands the phone back to Kevin.

"You should tell your parents," Big Rob advises, and Kevin, who can't resist looking at the picture for a while himself, nods.

"I know. I just... I just can't, yet. I will. I promise I will, eventually," he says, which is the most he can do. Big Rob seems satisfied with it; enough that he reaches out with one huge hand to mess up Kevin's hair.

"Alright," Rob says. "He won't have any problems coming up."

"Thanks, big man," Kevin says, and Big Rob submits to being hugged the way he usually does--picking Kevin right off his feet and hugging him back. (They've really got the best bodyguard in the world, Kevin thinks.)

  


**~oOo~**  


(February 15, 2009)

Mike has never stayed at the Trump International Hotel. Actually, until Kevin and his brothers got successful enough to stay there all the time, Mike can't be sure if he even _knew_ anyone who'd stayed there. Okay, maybe Pete, but Pete doesn't fucking count. That's been a band rule, basically since the beginning. So he's got to admit he's kind of intimidated by all the gleaming _everything_ \--he feels like he's dirtying the place up just by standing in their lobby, being given suspicious looks by the uniformed security guys in the corner.

He checks his phone again. The clock now reads 1:37 AM, but there's no new messages. Finally, just when the security guys look like they're about to start asking questions, his phone lights up and there's a message from Kevin, which says (unhelpfully) _were running late, sry!!!! :(_ and Kevin only uses that much punctuation when he's stressed, so Mike takes a seat off to the side of the lobby and keeps up his phone-watching vigil.

He sort of expects something along the lines of an _I'm coming down to pick you up because the elevators require a key card and I don't want you to be arrested for loitering in a very expensive lobby at nearly 2AM_ text, what he gets instead is a flurry of commotion at the front doors of the hotel. Mike's eyes widen as he realizes that when Kevin said they were running late, he meant _they_ were running late, and there is now a small crowd of Jonases and associated personnel coming through the doors. (At least they've thoroughly distracted the security guards.)

Kevin gets what is probably a matching expression on his face when he spots Mike, a brief moment of panic, and Mike was thinking about standing up but he doesn't, which is probably good, because the next person who comes through the door is Kevin's _father_ , who Mike recognizes more from paparazzi photos than from their actual meeting a couple of years ago. Mike keeps his seat and stays quiet, hoping the plant next to him will shield him from any inconvenient questions. Mike notes that Joe and Nick noticed him too; Joe grins at him for a split second before he thinks better of it and carefully looks elsewhere, and the little one glowers, though Mike actually doesn't see many pictures of him where he doesn't look mildly pissed off, so maybe that's his natural state of being.

Mike does his best to look disinterested in their group, which is really hard to do when there's almost no one else in the lobby except the staff, especially when you're also watching them _really closely_. Closely enough to see Kevin elbow Big Rob, who Mike hasn't officially met but who's fairly obvious, being easily the largest person around. Close enough to note Big Rob speaking briefly to Kevin Sr. (while Kevin Jr. looks like he's preparing for imminent death, and Mike really, really wants to go over and hug him but that would be a fucking terrible idea; he'd probably get shot by hotel security or something) before the whole family is herded into the elevators and Big Rob remains in the lobby.

The doors have barely closed by the time Big Rob is standing right in front of him, and Mike figures he can stand up now. He's still substantially shorter than Big Rob, but at least he doesn't have the uncomfortable feeling of being a kid in the principal's office. For fuck's sake, he's here to have entirely adult sex with his entirely adult boyfriend. Maybe it's just an innate bodyguard thing, making everyone feel like a disobedient sixth grader.

Big Rob looks him over critically, and eventually Mike has had enough of that, so he sticks his hand out and says, "Mike Carden," like he's playing meet the in-laws, except it's meet the bodyguard instead. That seems to earn him a bit of approval.

"You can call me Big Rob," Big Rob says, and the corner of Mike's mouth quirks up involuntarily. Big Rob shakes his hand once, then pulls out a key card and hands it over. It's kind of a relief, actually. Mike was almost expecting thumb prints and retinal scans.

"Seventeenth floor," he tells Mike, "Number two. He said he'd text you when you're good to go up." Mike very nearly stumbles under the shoulder pat he receives after that, which he halfway thinks was deliberately a shade too hard. He completely thinks that when Big Rob follows up with, "I love that kid like family, you know."

Mike nods. Meet the in-laws was clearly the right comparison for this. "I love him, too," Mike says quietly, out of deference to the lobby staff who are actually kind of bad at pretending they're not watching the proceedings with interest. Big Rob smiles at him, then.

"Good," he says, and a split second afterward, Mike's phone buzzes. The message is from Kevin, and when Mike looks up, Big Rob tilts his head toward the elevators. Mike can take a hint. He goes.

  


**~*~**  


Kevin and his brothers are staying in a hotel room that's more like an apartment, and probably twice the size of Mike's place back in Chicago. He whistles a little, impressed, as he follows Kevin into the living room--an actual living and dining room, in a _hotel_ , what the fuck--where Joe and Nick are sitting on the sofa talking, and look up when he walks in.

"Hey, Mike!" Joe waves in greeting, smiling though he doesn't get up.

"Hey," Mike waves back, as much as he can with his bag over one shoulder and his other hand firmly held in Kevin's. He likes Joe, actually; has ended up talking to him on the phone a few times when he'd stolen it from Kevin and managed to keep it away long enough to hold entirely random conversations about things like whether koalas would be an efficient part of a world domination army. (In Joe's defense, they'd been visiting Australia at the time. Kevin sent Mike a stuffed kangaroo, which Bill will _never_ find out about.)

Nick nods, more an acknowledgment of his presence than an actual greeting, and Mike nods back. It's about what Mike was expecting--he gets the feeling Nick doesn't like him much. The feeling isn't mutual; really, Mike doesn't have much of an opinion of Nick Jonas one way or another, other than that he's Kevin's brother, which means Mike isn't allowed to corner him and ask what his fucking problem is. Kevin would probably take that the wrong way.

Mike's not there to exchange awkward pleasantries, though, and there are nowhere near enough hours until Mike needs to be _gone_ from this room, which Kevin seems keenly aware of. He uses his grip on Mike's hand to tug him toward the bedroom on the left, and Mike follows, ignoring any and all smirking that Joe may or may not be doing. In fact, he puts Joe out of his mind completely, because as soon as he shuts the door behind him, Kevin pushes him back against it with a loud thump, and kisses Mike soundly enough to make up for all the time they've spent not-kissing since the last time they were together. It's a lot of time, and a lot of kiss. Mike grabs Kevin by the hips to keep him right there, where he can enjoy the way Kevin shivers when he sucks on his tongue, and the way Kevin rocks against him, his cock already thickening in his jeans.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Mike says when they stop to breathe a little. Technically it's two hours late for that, but Kevin beams at him, clearly not caring that the sentiment is a bit belated.

  


**~oOo~**  


Kevin knows he's being a little bit... eager, but it's all he can do to keep his hands off Mike long enough for him to shrug out of his coat and drop his overnight bag on the floor. Then he's pushing Mike up against the door again, feeling sinfully shameless about how much he _wants_. Mike's hands slip under the hem of his shirt, thumbs on his hipbones, rough callouses against soft skin. It's far past time for them both to be wearing far less clothing, and Kevin reaches up between them to unzip Mike's hoodie, his fingers skimming over Mike's chest, the lump under his t-shirt. He shoves the hoodie over Mike's shoulders, letting Mike handle getting it the rest of the way off, and lays his palm flat over that lump, feeling the shape of it under his hand.

"I saw the tour pictures," he says. There were plenty of them, posted to fansites and music blogs and FoE. In the ones where Mike's not wearing one of his hoodies, he could clearly see the chain around Mike's neck, the vague shape under his shirt. In some of them, either because he forgot to tuck it in or because it slipped out at some point and Mike hadn't bothered to do anything about it, Kevin's ring glints against his chest. The first time he saw one of _those_ pictures, Kevin had to lock himself in the bathroom for ten minutes.

"Yeah," Mike says, sheepish, almost hesitant. "I wasn't sure if you'd..." he trails off, like he can't decide what to say, so Kevin solves it for him, leaning up and in to capture his mouth.

"I love it," Kevin says, and Mike smiles one of his stupid, heart-melting smiles, and Kevin is so glad to see him that it's almost painful. Kevin tugs at the hem of Mike's t-shirt, pulling it up until Mike puts his arms over his head and he can take it off completely. His ring rests against Mike's sternum, surrounded by a light smattering of chest hair and miles and miles of skin, and Kevin picks it up delicately, turning it between his fingers. He grabs Mike's wrists when he moves to pull the chain off.

"Leave it on," Kevin says, surprised at the huskiness of his own voice. Mike's eyes darken, just a little, and then he's backing Kevin into the room until he's pressed against the bed, the mattress too high to knock his knees out from under him. Mike's hands skim up Kevin's sides, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it away. He rubs a thumb over Kevin's nipple, tearing a groan out of him that he couldn't control even if he wanted to. 

The bed is enormous and just a little too high for getting onto it to be anything but awkward, though if either of them was a little shorter it would have been worse. Mike pulls Kevin up after him, shifting so Kevin can crawl up and straddle his hips. Kevin rides the bulge of Mike's erection, rolling his hips and grinding down against him through two frustrating layers of denim, hands braced against Mike's shoulders.

"Missed you so fucking much," Mike says, kissing his way up Kevin's jaw to tug at his earlobe with just the barest hint of teeth. Kevin shudders, hips shaking in an uneven staccato.

"I missed you, too," Kevin breathes against Mike's cheek, rough with just enough stubble that Kevin can feel it scratching against his skin. He sits up a bit and fumbles for the button of Mike's jeans, popping it free after a moment's work. He has to move so he can unzip Mike's fly and shove his jeans down his thighs, but it's worth the loss of friction for the way Mike groans and arches against the bed when Kevin leans down and sucks the head of his cock into his mouth. Kevin really hopes the walls here are as thick as they seem, but he honestly doesn't care if they're giving his brothers an earful. Mike's hand comes to rest on the back of his head, fingers stroking through his hair, and Kevin focuses on the taste and feel of Mike's cock on his tongue, the sounds Mike makes when he flicks the tip of his tongue against that little divot on the underside.

It's not long before Mike tugs at his hair, saying _fuck, fuck, Kevin, I'm gonna--_ but Kevin doesn't let himself be pulled off, keeps going even as Mike makes a strained noise and lets his head fall back against the comforter, his come splashing across Kevin's tongue. He swallows all of it, the weird, salty-sweet taste filling his mouth as Mike watches his throat work.

"Get up here," Mike pulls at his shoulder, and Kevin goes, letting Mike lick the taste of himself out of Kevin's mouth. "That was so, jeezus Kev," Mike's hands are at his waist, freeing Kevin's cock from his jeans, and his hips jerk as Mike's fingers wrap around him. Kevin shimmies, trying to encourage his jeans to move further down his legs. They're getting all tangled up, with Mike's jeans still stuck around his ankles, trapped by the shoes he's still wearing. After a minute of ineffectual wiggling, Mike laughs against Kevin's neck, dropping a kiss there.

"Wait a sec," he says, then shifts until he can sit up and deal with his shoes. Kevin takes the opportunity to pull his own jeans off completely, kicking them off the bed. He pouts a little when Mike not only drops his jeans to the floor, but also _gets up_ , until he realizes that Mike's only going over to his bag, and returning with two strips of condoms and a bottle of lube that's at least five or six times the size of the one Kevin bought for that first time. His surprise must show, because Mike laughs as he drops the stuff on the nightstand, then crawls over Kevin, kissing his way up Kevin's chest. The ring drags coolly across his skin, and Kevin shivers at the contrast between Mike's warm lips and tongue, and the chill of the smooth metal.

"We don't have to use all of it," Mike says when he reaches Kevin's collarbone, smirking a little, and Kevin doesn't have to put up with that. He gives Mike a smirk of his own and bends, wrapping his legs around Mike's hips.

"We can _try_..." Kevin says, and it's been barely any time at all, so he's pretty proud of the way Mike's dick is already starting to get hard again.

"You're on," Mike growls.

  


**~oOo~**  


The way Kevin falls apart when Mike tongues around his hole is maybe the hottest thing Mike has ever seen. It's a hard call, because there are a lot of ways in which Kevin is the hottest thing Mike's ever seen, but like this--bent nearly in half, his legs spread wide, whimpering against the back of one hand, the other white-knuckling a handful of the comforter as Mike licks him... Mike's cock is already hard again just from the sight of it, the sounds Kevin makes as he tries to keep from crying out.

Kevin's so fucking _tight_ ; they've only done this the once, and that was a month and a half ago. He has to open Kevin up all over again, and doing it with his tongue has the added bonus of driving Kevin _crazy_. It's hot as hell, how much Kevin loves being rimmed. Mike forces the tip of his tongue past those clenching muscles, keeping everything as wet as he can. Kevin's skin is hot, and there are already the beginning traces of stubble burn appearing, which Mike would feel bad about except for how Kevin keens every time Mike rubs his face against him. He teases Kevin's hole with little licks and thrusts until Kevin is as loose as Mike's tongue can make him, until he's making incoherent noises and his cock is leaking pre-come all over his stomach. He whines when Mike lowers his legs back to the bed so he can reach for the lube and the condoms. He stops to kiss Kevin softly, and this time Kevin doesn't seem to care at all where Mike's mouth has been, he just takes it greedily, licking inside and wrapping his arms around Mike's neck to hold him there.

Kevin's eyes are nearly black, irises the thinnest of lines, his skin flushed and sweaty, and his hair is sticking to his forehead. He's fucking _beautiful_ , and Mike strokes a few curls back, pressing his lips against Kevin's temple.

"Need you," Kevin begs, fisting his own cock with one hand, "I want you inside, so bad," and Mike can only shudder and say, "Yeah, fuck, yeah," as he rips into the first condom wrapper, rolling it down over his cock as fast as he can without tearing it.

Somewhere in the back of Mike's mind, he winces at the amount of lube that ends up on the comforter as he pours it out into his hand, slicking his fingers. Kevin spreads his legs wider, welcoming Mike's fingers. His muscles are fluttering already, working around Mike's knuckles, and when Kevin moans out, "Just _do_ it!" Mike doesn't argue the point. He pulls one of Kevin's legs up, over his shoulder so he can get the angle right, then he's pushing in and Kevin's so tight around him. Mike can feel the way his thighs and calves tense, release as he breathes out a high-pitched sigh that goes right to Mike's gut.

Kevin doesn't do dirty talk; there's no litany of _oh yeah, fuck, fuck me_. But the _noises_ he makes are so fucking hot, like he couldn't manage to get words out even if he wanted to. Kevin doesn't do dirty talk, but he's loud and so gorgeous when he's got his head tipped back, groaning and gasping as Mike thrusts into him.

"So fucking good, baby," Mike tells him, because Kevin doesn't do dirty talk himself, but the way his back arches and he shudders all over says he _really_ likes it when Mike does. "You like getting fucked, huh Kev?" He slows down a little, thrusting into Kevin with long, slow strokes. "You like having my cock in you?"

Kevin whimpers. "Yeah," he gasps out. " _Oh,_ " his hips twitch up as Mike's cock drags across his prostate, "Harder, Mike, please--" and Mike can't turn down a request like that. He hauls Kevin's other leg up until he catches on and wraps it around Mike's waist, and then Mike lets himself go, lets his hips snap forward as he fucks into Kevin. It's rougher than Mike planned on, but Kevin's moans tick up a notch in volume and he curls into Mike's thrusts until it's just his head and shoulders on the mattress. Mike has to hold him up, one hand tight on Kevin's thigh and the other gripping his ass so hard that Kevin's skin is bone white beneath his fingers.

  


**~oOo~**  


Neither of them were going to last very long, but Kevin's orgasm comes over him so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash--hard to do when he's experiencing first-hand what being pounded into a mattress really means, but he's pretty sure he managed it anyway, unable to stop his back from arching suddenly upward as he comes all over his stomach. His vision goes white for what seems like a week or two, every muscle going tight and tingly with pleasure, but when the spots clear from his eyes, Mike is still thrusting into him, sending little aftershocks up his spine. He's close to coming, too; this may only be their second time doing this, but Kevin couldn't forget the expression on Mike's face, not ever. Mike's hair is sweaty and hanging in his face a little, but it doesn't do anything to take away from the sheer intensity in his eyes, the way he's focused on Kevin and _only_ on Kevin. It's almost as overwhelming as his own orgasm, watching the way Mike's expression shifts as he gets closer, the way he tightens his already-bruising grip and buries himself deep inside Kevin as he shakes through it.

They stay frozen like that long enough to recover a little; deep, panting breaths fading into sighs and soft groans when Mike carefully pulls out, ties off the condom and tosses it in the trash. Kevin saves a pillow from a precarious position on the edge of the mattress, flopping back into the plush comforter and tilting his head up so Mike can kiss him softly as he gets comfortable, too.

"So," Mike says after they've spent way too long smiling stupidly at each other, "How've you been?" and Kevin has to bury his face in the ridiculous-threadcount pillowcase as he turns bright red and laughs, because yeah, they sort of skipped that part tonight.

"Well," he says, still laughing and happy to see it reflected back at him in the slow curve of Mike's lips and the corners of his eyes, "I was feeling pretty crappy, 'cause I hadn't seen my boyfriend in almost two months. But I'm better now," he assures, and Mike reaches out and cups the side of Kevin's face in his palm and kisses him, slow and wet and perfect.

"That's good," Mike says, so close they're breathing the same air, and Kevin wishes they had more time, that they had all the time in the world to spend cuddled in bed like this.

They don't, though, so Kevin pushes any hints of tiredness to the edges of his thoughts and gets even closer, letting Mike press him down into the sheets and opening his mouth to Mike's. It's only kissing, but somehow it feels just as intimate as sex, and Kevin lets his hands explore the planes of Mike's back, the contours of soft skin over hard muscle and bone. They're both young guys, and Kevin will personally admit to wanting as much of Mike as he can get, as often as he can get it, so it's not long before the kisses melt from slow and tender to deep and heated, gentleness turning to little nips of teeth, until they're both hard again.

Kevin hooks his ankle around Mike's leg, rolls him over onto his back. Mike grins up at him as Kevin settles himself astride Mike's thighs and reaches for the condoms, holding a strip up for inspection.

"Two down," he notes, separating number two from the remaining one on the strip. He puts the spare back on the nightstand and tears the packet open, Mike's hands on his hips centering him as he rolls the condom on.

"Only four left. If we run out I'll go buy more," Mike promises, and Kevin nearly spills the lube all over both of them when he laughs, but he manages to get enough of it in the right places that he can slide down on Mike's cock, and counting condoms ceases to seem important.

  


**~*~**  


"I need water," Kevin says once he has his breath back, and Mike squeezes him tight once before letting him go so he can sit up and crawl over to the edge of the bed. He also needs to wash some of the come off his skin before it sticks permanently, but he doesn't feel the need to mention that part.

"Bring me a glass?" Mike asks, propping himself up on one elbow and running a hand through his hair. It doesn't do much to stop it from looking... well, like he's been having really enthusiastic sex, actually. Kevin kind of loves it.

"Sure," he says, and leans in to kiss Mike once more before going over to the closet to pull on one of the fluffy bathrobes the hotel provided.

The bathroom attached to Kevin's room of the suite isn't really attached to his room--Nick and Joe claimed the room with the actual _en suite_ , whereas Kevin's bathroom could be used by anyone who happens to be visiting them, without going through a bedroom. The bathroom door is separated from the bedroom door by a little anteroom, with one side open to the living space, and Kevin pauses after pulling the bedroom door shut behind him, surprised to hear his brothers' voices filtering in. He's not sure exactly what time it is, but it's late--or early--enough that he would have expected them to be asleep already.

"I shouldn't be eating this," Nick says, and Kevin can tell from his voice that he's got that tight-lipped, suspicious expression on his face. There's a clinking sound, and okay, they're in the kitchen area, not bothering to keep their voices down but then, Kevin really wouldn't have heard them at all if he hadn't left the room.

"It's sugar-free," Joe says, and there's another clinking noise and some shuffling, "I got you ice cream, so now you have to tell me what's up with you."

"That's not a rule," Nick insists, but it's his arguing-with-Joe voice, the one that means he's already accepted the inevitable.

"Okay, then tell me what's wrong so I can fix you and actually get some sleep," Joe says reasonably.

Nick makes a growling, frustrated noise. "How can you be so, so _okay_ with this?" he demands, and there's barely a pause at all before Joe says, "With what?" his voice all genuine confusion. Kevin's heart is already sinking in his chest, though. Joe can be oblivious--or play oblivious, though Kevin's not sure he's actually that good an actor--but Kevin knows exactly what Nick's talking about.

There's a long silence before Joe says, "Ohhh," the light of understanding dawning. "Wait, what? Why wouldn't I be okay?" and if Kevin wasn't hiding at the moment, he'd be hugging Joe _so_ tight.

" _Why?_ " Nick splutters, "It's--do you even know what they're _doing?_ " Kevin can barely hear the end of that sentence, Nick's voice fading down into a rough whisper.

"Sounded like they were having fun," Joe quips, and Kevin feels his face heat. _Oh, God._ "It's not a big deal, Nicky," Joe says, surprisingly gentle.

"But it _is_!" Nick says, his voice cracking a little. Kevin forgets, sometimes, just how young Nick actually is. "He made a promise! We _all_ did!" Nick's pitch keeps rising, his voice ragged at the edges. "How can he just-- it's not _right!_ The Bible says--"

"The Bible says a lot of stuff," Joe says, defusing Nick before he can really gear up into the Values Speech. "You still eat bacon." There's a clatter of ceramic and metal, water running for a few seconds.

"What happens when mom and dad find out?" Nick asks, quiet and almost dispirited. "What about everyone _else_? It's-- what about our _family?_ "

"Kevin _is_ our family," Joe says, and Kevin's not sure he wants to know how Nick looks right now, if Joe's that serious. There's a long silence.

"Just think about it," Joe says finally, then, "Come on. Gotta get your beauty sleep so you can be all pretty in the morning."

"Get off me," Nick says without any real annoyance; it's probably a Pavlovian response to Joe's hugs by now, Kevin thinks. He tucks himself back into the alcove, completely out of sight until the kitchen light goes off and he hears Nick and Joe's door shut securely.

He cleans himself up with shaking hands, nearly dropping the miniature water glasses when he goes to fill them. It's not the best tasting water in the world, but it washes away the dryness and the lingering taste of come in his mouth. He leaves his glass empty on the counter, and carefully takes the second glass with him back into the bedroom, where Mike's sitting up against the headboard.

Mike takes one look at him and asks, "Hey, what's wrong?" but Kevin's tongue seems stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he finds himself unable to answer. Instead he sets the glass down on the nightstand, nestled between the alarm clock and the lube, drops the bathrobe haphazardly on the floor, and crawls into bed. He settles himself between Mike's thighs and leans back against his chest, his old ring on its chain trapped between them in a way that should be uncomfortable but isn't. Mike wraps his arms around Kevin's ribs and kisses the back of his shoulderblade, and Kevin relaxes into it, allowing himself to imagine for a few brief seconds that everything is as perfect as he wishes it could be. Mike takes his silence in stride, though Kevin can feel the edge of hesitancy in the embrace, like he's worried he did something wrong. Kevin lets himself slide down until he can duck his head under Mike's chin.

"It's just Nick," Kevin manages, which barely scratches the surface and is entirely inadequate to explain the situation.

"Mmm," Mike nods slightly. "He doesn't like me much."

Kevin sucks his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. He hoped Mike would just _get it_ , but maybe not. "It's not that," he says, but then he chokes on the rest of the words. How can he explain that it's not _Mike_ Nick has a problem with, but _Kevin_?

But Mike says, "Oh," and his arms tighten around Kevin, and maybe he does understand after all.

  


**~*~**  


The alarm clock goes off at an inhuman hour; an unfortunate but necessary consequence of sneaking Mike in and out. He has to be gone before their dad wakes up, which means they've barely gotten any sleep at all, but Kevin's glad to have the chance to wake up with Mike, the two of them still tangled up together in the utterly wrecked sheets. It's still dark outside the windows--they're high enough up that the glow of New York's streetlights is barely present--and Mike yawns something about early bus calls and needing coffee as he pulls his jeans on. Kevin slips into a pair of boxers. It's as much solidarity as he can manage at quarter-to-five in the morning.

Mike's got his stuff packed up in only a few minutes, taking the trash bag with him--Kevin feels a small rush of panic, because he wouldn't have thought of that, and what if his dad had walked in and seen the collection of used condoms? Kevin doesn't think he's very good at this whole secret relationship thing, but luckily for him, Mike seems to be. Mike tugs him over, slipping his fingers under the waistband of Kevin's boxers and pulling him in for a kiss. It's not the best kiss ever; they've both got morning breath, so it's actually maybe a little gross, but Kevin isn't going to complain.

"Definitely beats five AM bus call," Mike says, smiling, and Kevin smiles back. He waits while Mike grabs his bag, then walks him out to the entry.

"I might have a day off in California next tour," Mike says in a low voice as they linger in the doorway, and Kevin squeezes his hand. "I'll send you the dates," and Kevin nods happily.

"Yeah. That'd be good, I think we'll still be filming." It'll be another month, at least, Kevin thinks, until they'll see each other, but they both knew going in that they wouldn't be able to be together in person very often. He sighs, and Mike picks his head up, two curled fingers under Kevin's chin.

"I love you," he says seriously, and Kevin still doesn't quite know how something so simple can make him melt inside. "Don't let the bastards get you down, okay?" And Kevin leans in to meet the kiss that follows, enjoying it as much as he can with the knowledge that it's their last for a while.

"Love you, too. Text me when you land?” He asks, and Mike says, "Yeah, I will," and then he's gone, slipping out the door and around to the elevators, and Kevin is alone again.

Or not quite alone, as he discovers when he turns to go back to his bedroom to try to wring a little more sleep out of the night. Nick's standing in doorway of the dark kitchenette, a glass of what might be orange juice in his hand, and Kevin nearly jumps out of his skin when he notices him there.

"Um. Hey," Kevin offers, his heart still racing, and crap, with that adrenaline jolt he just knows he's not going to get any more decent sleep.

"I didn't want to interrupt," Nick says, and Kevin can't read his tone at all.

He takes a deep breath, his heartbeat finally slowing to a reasonable level, and says, "Thanks," which may or may not be the right response. Nick doesn't seem inclined to say anything else, he just looks at Kevin appraisingly, and Kevin knows he doesn't have the emotional fortitude to deal with this right now.

"I'm going back to bed," he says, ducking his head to avoid Nick's stare and escaping back to the relative safety of his room. He buries his face in the pillow that still smells faintly like Mike, and does his best to block Nick's judging gaze from his thoughts until he drifts off to sleep again.

  


**~oOo~**  


(February 27, 2009)

Mike flatly refuses to wear his "Official Disguise Hat", no matter how big Sisky's puppy eyes get. He may have gotten the rest of the band, but the puppy eyes, Mike has decided, will not sway his opinion on this one. Frankly, they probably don't need disguises at all. The paparazzi aren't likely to be very interested in the midnight premiere of the Jonas Brothers 3D Concert Experience at the South Barrington movie theater.

Actually, Mike is pretty sure that his band are the only people over the age of sixteen who are interested in this particular show -- the parents herding crowds of pubescent girls around the theater look far more tired than enthused. Sisky can keep his Official Disguise Hat; unless he can turn them all into sparkle-wearing pre-teens, they're going to stick out like sore thumbs regardless of their hat-wearing status.

Chislett loves his hat. Mike tries not to feel a little betrayed.

"Isn't this exciting?" Bill grins sunnily as he slings an arm around Mike's shoulders, and Mike rolls his eyes. Bill is wearing his Official Disguise Hat, so instead of looking like a very tall, very skinny girl, he looks like a very tall, very skinny girl who is also a Chicago Bulls fan.

"I can barely contain myself," he deadpans. It's not like he's opposed to seeing the movie. He's probably obligated, actually, seeing as his boyfriend features prominently in it. He would've gone at some point. The midnight premiere showing, surrounded by squealing girls and their harried parents, would not have been his first choice.

They're stuck in what might be loosely termed a line, waiting for the theater to open for seating. They're the third group in line, after two clusters of girls apparently even more insane than Bill and Sisky, who insisted on arriving at the theater at 10:30, _so we get good seats!_ He hopes "good seats" means "seats at the back", since Butcher and Sisky's clasped hands have already gotten a few odd looks from the nearby chaperones; Mike's glad they haven't started feeding each other popcorn. Yet.

Somehow they avoid being kicked out of the theater long enough that the ushers open the doors and actually let them in to sit down. Despite Sisky's best efforts to duck into the center rows, Mike manages to snag the back of his hoodie and frog march him all the way up the aisle to the back, shoving him down the row after the Butcher. The seats fill quickly, and soon the tail-end of the line is filtering in, looking mostly in vain for groups of open seats that don't exist anymore.

Mike settles into his less-than-new seat, enjoying the way he can stretch out versus how Bill _can't_ , with his crazy giraffe legs. It's a very minor revenge, but it'll do. Ads and random trivia questions play across the screen as the parents in the audience arrange children, coats, snacks, and last-minute bathroom runs.

As the movie starts, Mike realizes that he has options. He could sit there and watch this very seriously, doing his best to ignore Butcher and Sisky next to him, waiting to call in the morning to congratulate Kevin on the movie and whatnot. That’s option one. That’s probably the option he should take if he wants to remain a “good boyfriend” according to polls in Cosmo and most of the civilized world. But that option, Mike decides as he watches Kevin and his brothers flee in mock-terror from the horde of pre-teens descending upon them like this is secretly going to turn into a Romero movie any second, is just not going to happen.

Sisky glares at him (he can _feel_ the glare, even though he is decidedly not looking to his left, at all - he’s been to the movies with Sisky and Butcher before, and just _no_ ), but Mike continues to ignore him as he types out his message and hits send. There’s about a two minute lag before his phone buzzes and the screen lights up to alert him to his new message, which Mike reads with a grin on his face.

 _Ur not really @ midnite show rite?_ Kevin has asked, and Mike figures most of that two minutes was Kevin figuring the time difference from Chicago to L.A.

 _Blame sisky_ , Mike types back, following it up a moment later with, _love u w/ bedhead :)_

There’s another long pause after that, and Mike smirks to himself because he knows exactly how red Kevin is right now, wherever he is and whatever he’s doing at 10pm — probably getting ready for bed, because Mike is dating a legitimate Good Boy who does things like go to bed at a reasonable hour instead of rolling into bed drunk at 4am and out of bed (still drunk) at noon. It probably says something about what those sorts of habits do to the brain, then, that Mike thinks the idea of Kevin in his worn pajama pants, blushing over text messages is entirely worth putting up with a theater full of parents and little girls who are up way past their own bedtimes and who don’t know it’s rude to sing along out loud in the theater. Mike aims a kick at Bill’s ankle, which gets him to stop singing for approximately twenty seconds.

Trading texts with Kevin (which grow increasingly ridiculous as the night wears on, and increasingly dirty — especially when the foam guns make their appearance) makes the movie fly by, and Mike blinks when the house lights go up. Sisky has fallen asleep on the Butcher’s shoulder, Bill — who had been completely obvious about trying to read Mike’s text messages all night — is smirking at Mike like he knows something, which is stupid because all Bill would have gotten from those is that 1) Mike is dating Kevin Jonas, which Bill already knew, and 2) Kevin is a dorky weirdo, which Bill should also already know. Mike rolls his eyes in Bill’s general direction and stands up, stretching out the muscles that had atrophied during the past two and a half hours.

“That wasn’t bad, actually,” Michael comments from beyond Bill’s shoulder, and somehow it’s just so absurd that Mike can’t keep himself from laughing as they pile out of the theater under the watchful eyes of the poor ushers who pulled overtime cleaning duty.

  


**~*~**  


(March 18, 2009)

The flight from San Francisco to L.A. isn’t very long, and Mike doesn’t have to check any bags considering he’s flying up to Seattle the next morning to be on time for TAI…’s next show, so most of his stuff is still on the bus (probably being messed with by Sisky, the fucker). He knows the drill well enough to fly past the TSA security checkpoint, and just having his backpack means he doesn’t have to hang around baggage claim for an hour waiting for his stuff. He strolls out of LAX ahead of nearly everyone else on his flight and snags a taxi, ignoring the hateful glares of the baggage claim crowd.

Mike never would have thought he’d be an L.A. kind of person — his whole life has been Chicago, his friends are from Chicago (with the notable exception of Michael, and Butcher but Wisconsin really should just be annexed as part of the greater Chicago metropolitan area, so Butcher gets a pass for being an honorary Chicagoan). He always figured he’d have an apartment in Chicago, and then maybe if he got all domestic in his old age he’d get a three- or four-bedroom in Schaumburg or Arlington Heights or maybe just down the road from his mom’s place; the perfect accessory for his successful business career and his 2.2 kids.

Instead he’s got a shitty bunk in a tourbus, but that’s better than a lot of the people he grew up with, and Mike’s not complaining that he gets to make a living playing guitar. The point, though, the _point_ is that Mike is Chicago, through and through, and growing up he never thought about living somewhere else or moving away. What would be the point? Chicago had everything Mike thought he could possibly need. But L.A….

Every time he steps off the bus or out of the airport, Mike knows it’s going to be tough to leave again. He’s not particularly fond of all the bitchy, over-stitched ‘beautiful people’ wandering around in far too little clothing, but there’s something about the atmosphere of the place that’s addictive. And Mike can admit that after a couple of decades of Chicago winters, sunny-with-a-high-of-86 in January sounds pretty appealing. On this particular Wednesday, Mike’s phone has informed him that the weather in Chicago is unseasonably warm but headed right back toward cold-and-rainy. He puts the window down and relaxes in the backseat of the taxi, letting the hot California breeze wash over his face and whip his hair around a little.

The driver drops him off at the front gates of the studio, and Mike gives him a healthy tip for avoiding the worst of L.A.’s perpetual traffic. Then he texts Kevin, and waits.

He’s honestly expecting Big Rob to be the go-between here, but instead of the deep voice he’s expecting, Mike’s nonspecific daydreams are interrupted by a firm but high, and decidedly female, call of, “Mike Carden?”

Being the only Mike Carden in the area that he knows of, and pretty much the only person hanging around the gate, Mike waves at the petite woman who’d hailed him. She’s at least two heads shorter than him, with her dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and dressed in no-nonsense jeans and a black t-shirt, accessorized with a belt more for utility than style. It’s weighted down with a walkie-talkie, a cell phone, what looks like a pager, and some other odds and ends. She’s wearing a headset, too, which seems like overkill but whatever. He doesn’t even have to ask to know that, 1) she’s a PA, 2) someone, either Big Rob or Kevin himself, sent her to get him, and 3) if he doesn’t keep up she’s likely to leave him to wander around lost.

“Natalie,” she says, sticking out her hand for the briefest handshake Mike has ever experienced. “Come with me.”

And so he does.

  


**~oOo~**  


Kevin isn’t entirely sure how he manages to get through the next four takes — in a _row_ — once he spots Mike hovering on the periphery of the ‘kitchen’ set, eyeing a bowl of fake fruit like maybe the plastic-y taste of the plastic would be worth it. But he does, somehow, and manages to not completely suck (yay!), and Joe only smirks a little when he figures out where Kevin’s attention really is. Nick notices, too, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he just takes advantage of the break, while the set dressers are prepping everything and most of the rest of the crew have split for lunch, to head over to his chair and his bag and check his levels. Kevin’s okay with that; it’s a step up from glaring, he supposes.

And then he doesn’t care at all, because Mike’s _there_ , finally, and the set is practically deserted, so he drags Mike around the corner behind the faux wall of the ‘firehouse’ and sticks his tongue down Mike’s throat. Mike hums and grabs Kevin by the stupid belt costuming made him wear and drags him closer, and Kevin probably should warn him about the insane amount of makeup they make all of them wear so they look like they’re not wearing makeup, but whatever. It can wait.

“How was your flight?” Kevin asks, breathless, several minutes later.

“Not bad,” Mike grins. “Gonna have to get used to coming into LAX more often, anyway.”

Kevin knows his nose scrunches up when he gets confused, so he doesn’t mind that Mike gives him that look that means, _I think you’re adorable_. Not that he ever minds that look, actually.

“Is Bill making you guys record out here or something?” He asks, going for the most obvious possibility for why Mike would be at LAX more often. Mike just grins at him.

“No, but me and Chizzy might convince him to record out here. He and Naomi are getting a place, and they needed a housemate.” He pulls Kevin in for a quick, affectionate kiss that kind of makes his knees go weak.

“Wait,” Kevin takes a second to process this. “You mean you, right?” And if Kevin’s stomach is all fluttery and his heart is beating a little faster than strictly normal, that’s okay. That’s okay because… “You’re moving to LA?”

He knows he sounds kind of breathless and a lot excited, but he can’t really help it. If Mike’s in LA then they’re living in the _same city_ , and Kevin’s brain is filling up with all the possibilities that opens up. Like how they’ll be able to see each other more than once or twice every few months, between hectic tour schedules and recording and now the TV show. Like how their relationship might, just maybe, start to bear a resemblance to the sort of thing he always expected — dates and cuddling and planning where they’ll go on the weekend, not where their tours might cross three months from now.

“Yeah,” Mike says, and there’s something in his eyes and the smirking curve of his mouth that makes Kevin think that Mike might just be entertaining the same sorts of ideas, that maybe Kevin isn’t alone in his breathless anticipation. “You’re gonna have to show me where all the townies hang out,” Mike jokes, and Kevin flushes and knows he’s teasing. He doesn’t care.

“I’ll make a list,” he promises, and it’s not even a joke. He wants to go everywhere with Mike, show him all the places Kevin has grown to love. He wants to take him to the best smoothie place in town and to the little dive bar he found where no one cares that he’s a Jonas Brother. (Actually, Kevin suspects none of the regulars there even know who the Jonas Brothers are. What they do know is good local bands, which he thinks Mike will appreciate, too.) He wants to go to the beach and grope each other with only the flimsiest sunscreen-related excuse, and have stupid water fights, and wash the sand out of each other’s hair later.

Maybe Mike can tell, because he crowds into Kevin’s space even more, pressing him up against the set and licking into his mouth, and Kevin moans and lets him, lets his hands fall to the curve where Mike’s lower back meets his ass, the little hollow there. It’s good, and _nice_ , and Kevin can feel his dick taking an interest, can feel Mike against his thigh, but it’s the sort of comfortable arousal that he can live with, can enjoy while they spend time just kissing.

“When do you move?” Kevin asks, maybe an age later, maybe only a minute or two. Mike smiles against Kevin’s cheek.

“After the tour finishes. They’re closing on the house sometime in the middle of April, I think,” he says, and that’s only _weeks_ away. Kevin can feel his toes curl in anticipation.

“Make sure to invite me to the housewarming party,” he quips, and Mike bites his neck in retaliation, making Kevin shiver.

“We’ll have a private party,” he says, and the way he grinds himself into Kevin’s hip leaves him with no illusions about what Mike means. He can’t wait.

  


**~oOo~**  


(April 10, 2009)

Everything on the tour has gone completely insane. So has every _one_ , but Mike had resigned himself to that ages ago. What’s really insane is playing without Sisky, who’s down and out for the count, if the doctors are to be believed. Sisky so far refuses to acknowledge this, and has forced everyone else to not believe it either, but that doesn’t mean that Butcher looks any happier about leaving Sisky in the care of the hospital and playing without him.

It’s been a couple of days, which is the only reason Mike plugs in his cell phone once they get back to Chicago — it had been blowing up, once word that Sisky was hurt got out. He suspects about 80% of the calls were Pete trying to get constant updates by stealing everyone’s phones in the hope they wouldn’t figure out it was him. Not that there were many updates to give; “still lots of blood”, “no, we’re still at the hospital”, “yes, still at the hospital”, “hospital, Pete, stop calling”. When his phone ran out of juice, Mike just watched in sympathy as Chislett’s phone started up the same constant vibration his had just escaped.

So he finally plugs in the phone, and thinks maybe he’ll call Kevin and update him, because Kevin knows how much Mike was worried about touring with Empires — with _Tom_ , actually, because the rest of the band seems cool, but Mike knows that he and Tom are the kind of people who will probably never really deal with their history, unless it involves drunkenness and probably fisticuffs, and possibly some very misguided last-hurrah sex, which is why Mike has mostly avoided situations that would involve both Tom and alcohol. Kevin doesn’t quite know all of the details, but that doesn’t matter. Mike knows how much it would kill Kevin if anything happened, which is why he’s been so squeaky clean the last week or so that he should probably be auditioning to join Kevin’s band of Disney misfits.

Anyway, he’s proud of himself, even if he probably won’t tell Kevin _why_ , exactly. And he does actually want to tell Kevin how surprised he’s been at how well it’s going, and also how fucking _worried_ he is about Sisky, and what all of this means for the band. It’s been a mixed-up week.

So then he calls Kevin, and everything gets worse.

  


**~oOo~**  


Perez has it filed under: Gay Gay Gay > Jonas Brothers > Photos!, which is probably because Perez Hilton has no idea who The Academy Is… are, and also it’s really hard to figure out who Mike is without knowing who Mike is already.

That doesn’t mean that Kevin’s life is any easier, because his _parents_ have seen it, photoshopped white splotches and all, and then again on about a million other gossip sites without the white splotches, not that the lack of photoshop makes it much better. The picture is still _really obvious_ , what with how Kevin’s fingers are tucked under the waistband of Mike’s jeans, and Mike’s grabbing his ass, and it doesn’t help to remember how _happy_ he was at that moment, knowing Mike would be living in LA soon.

This is not what Kevin had in mind when he idly tossed around thoughts of being public about their relationship. In fact, this is sort of Kevin’s worst nightmare, and he’s glad the house is so big because he can avoid his brothers and his parents and _everyone_ most of the time. Well, most of the time other than the twelve to eighteen hours a day they spent filming, where he had to be surrounded by everyone in the universe, including the Disney PR people who haven’t stopped following him around like he’s about to suddenly do something to bring shame to the Mouse. (Well, more shame. He’s pretty sure being caught making out with a guy already brings shame to the Mouse.) At least they’re finally done filming, officially wrapped, which means that Kevin can hide in his room and pretend that someone else got caught with their hands down their secret boyfriend’s pants.

It has been the most miserable 48 hours of Kevin’s life, made worse by the fact that when he tried to call Mike, Mike’s phone remained resolutely off. So when he gets the call, just after the dinnertime that he skipped in favor of a packet of PopTarts he had stashed in his sock drawer, so as to avoid the awkward silence and Nick’s judging stare — like Kevin’s ruined everything, just by existing — well, when Kevin gets the call he nearly drops his phone in shock, because he kind of thought maybe Mike had seen the picture and gone running for the hills.

Mike sounds tired when he says, “Hey, Kev. Sorry my phone’s been off,” and Kevin’s honestly not even angry. He just sighs and flops back onto his bed, letting his curls squish up awkwardly against the comforter.

“Yeah. I hope the guys aren’t giving you too much grief,” Kevin says, and he means it. Just because his life has suddenly gone to hell doesn’t mean Mike’s should, too.

“No grief,” Mike says, sounding surprised, “Why would they? I’m not the one who sliced his hand open. And it’s not like anyone’s really messing with Sisky either; we just want him to get better, you know?”

“Huh?” Kevin stares at the ceiling, contemplating the swirls in the plaster. He has a feeling he’s in the wrong conversation.

“Sisky’s hand? He sliced it open a couple of days ago. Looks like he’s gonna end up having surgery to fix everything. He won’t be playing for a while, at least,” Mike clarifies on his end of the phone, and Kevin blinks. He hadn’t even known about that.

“Oh, wow. I hope he gets better soon,” Kevin says, and Mike says _Mmm-hmm_ in that way that means he’ll pass the message along. “So,” he says after a pause. “Um. Does that mean you haven’t seen the picture?”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the phone, and Kevin licks his lips nervously, because it Mike’s radio silence had nothing to do with the picture, then… Kevin has no idea what his response is going to be, actually. 

“What picture?” Mike asks hesitantly, and Kevin dutifully pulls it up on his laptop for the four-millionth time and rattles off the URL. There’s an even longer pause, and then Mike says, “ _Fuck_ ,” and Kevin winces.

“Yeah. It’s. Um.”

“Bad,” Mike fills in. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“ but Kevin cuts him off.

“No, it was my fault, we were on _set_ , I should have thought,” he says, because he’s thought about this a lot over the last two days, and it’s _all_ his fault for being so dumb. They’d been so _careful_ , and then Kevin went and messed it all up.

“I’m the one who came out there,” Mike points out, and there’s nothing Kevin wants more at that moment than to have Mike _there_ and let Mike hold him and be all reasonable like that, so unlike everyone else who seems to think Kevin just destroyed their lives or something. (Well, except Joe. Joe printed out a copy and put the picture on the fridge — the non-photoshopped version. Kevin doesn’t know who was responsible for taking it down and throwing it in the trash.) But Mike isn’t there, and Kevin’s not actually keeping it together so well, so he changes the subject.

“How’d Sisky manage to slice his hand open?” He asks, the most transparent avoidance ever, but Mike seems not to care.

“You know Butcher’s party trick with the bottles?” He starts, and lets the whole story spill out while Kevin stares at the picture on his open laptop screen until the screensaver starts making its random rainbow loops, and Kevin can’t be bothered to type in his password to make it stop, so he just closes the lid.

They talk around it for a while, what it means for the two of them, until it’s too awkward to bring the conversation back around, and also it’s probably 3AM in Chicago and Mike still has another show to play the next night, the last of the tour.

“They close on the house on Thursday,” Mike cuts in, just before Kevin was about to say his final goodbye for the night and hang up the phone. “We’re mostly packed up; I’ll be there by like, the 24th I think, depending on how the driving goes.”

Kevin’s heart skips a beat, because it’ll be the shittiest two weeks ever, dealing with all of _this_ ; his family and the press and the network and the label. But he thinks he can probably make it, with Mike to look forward to.

“I’ll find a housewarming present,” Kevin says, shaky, and Mike just says, “Come help me unpack?” and Kevin says, “Yeah, of course, just tell me when.”

He manages to put his laptop and cell phone on the nightstand before he falls asleep, but it’s a close thing. Kevin doesn’t know when he’s ever felt so tired.

  


**~*~**  


(April 12, 2009)

The band meeting is inevitable; like the sun rising in the East or Frankie taking over the world before he hits puberty. Some things are just facts, and Kevin knows that it’s a miracle his reprieve has lasted this long. He knows his decision to skip church that morning in favor of continuing to hide in his room hasn’t won him any favors, either. Basically, he’s screwed. Completely. And if there was any doubt remaining, the schedule on the fridge has it listed as “band meeting”, not “family meeting”, which means that Kevin is the topic of conversation, because if it were a family meeting Frankie would be invited, and he isn’t. (Kevin isn’t happy about this, mainly because Frankie has the puppy eyes and also Kevin is his favorite. Kevin is not, at this point, above using every weapon in his — admittedly limited — arsenal.)

“Meeting time,” Joe says, sticking his head into Kevin’s room without knocking. He sounds apologetic, and looks it too, and Kevin is glad that Joe’s on his side (as far as he can tell), but Kevin knows as much as Joe does that their parents love him, but tend not to take Joe very seriously most of the time. Nick, on the other hand, has very few modes other than ‘serious’, and Kevin already knows where Nick stands on the issue, so…

He sighs, standing and wiping damp palms off on his jeans.

Everyone else is already seated in the living room when Kevin comes downstairs, Frankie off at a friend’s for the afternoon. His mom and dad are sitting together on the couch, leaving the loveseat for Nick and Joe, who’s perched himself on the armrest. Kevin takes the chair that they clearly left for him, and tries not to feel like he’s on that _Intervention_ show and about to be shipped off to rehab or something. He drums his fingers on his knees as the awkward silence drags on and on and on, no one quite sure where to begin.

“Kevin,” his father says, and Kevin flinches at the tone, because that’s never, ever been a good tone. He’s quietly thankful for the way his mother’s eyes soften a little, noticing, and the way she lays a quelling hand on Kevin senior’s arm.

“So the photograph is real?” She asks, not unkindly, and Kevin barely manages to meet her eyes as he nods.

“Yeah,” he admits, his voice breaking only a little bit. He clears his throat, loud in the otherwise silent room, drowning out the soft hum of the air conditioner. “Yes. It’s not photoshop, I mean. It was,” he can’t keep talking, right then, so he stops.

“It was stupid,” Nick says, and Kevin ducks his head even further, cheeks burning. He _knows_ it was stupid, but it was the only time they had even remotely near each other, and he hadn’t been able to resist the tug in his gut when Mike had suggested that he could fly down between shows, spend the afternoon in LA.

“Exactly,” Kevin senior agrees, and Kevin isn’t sure if he can actually shrink into himself anymore. “I can understand that this must have been… difficult, for you,” he says, and Kevin can tell he’s trying not to choke on the words. “But you need to be more careful, Kevin. We’re still working on finding out if the young man in the picture had anything to do with the photographer being there—“

Kevin has no idea what his face looks like when his head snaps up, but whatever expression is there is enough that his father stops talking in the middle of his sentence.

“ _What!?_ ” He blurts out, not even thinking, because what on earth would possess his parents to think that Mike had anything to do with the photo…?

“Mike wouldn’t do that,” Joe says, sounding almost as confused as Kevin feels. Nick’s mouth is pursed like he just swallowed a lemon, but he eventually nods.

“I don’t think he would,” Nick agrees at last, and regardless of Nick’s feelings on the subject, Kevin feels a wash of overwhelming gratitude that whatever else, Nick is at least fair.

“ _Mike_?” Denise asks, the expression on her face only a little bit gobsmacked. Their father looks like someone just hit him in the face with a mackerel, and it occurs to Kevin that in not talking to anyone about the whole situation over the last few days — in not talking to his _family_ — his parents had somehow completely missed that Mike wasn’t just some random guy he’d been kissing behind the set one day. He can tell by their faces that Joe has only just realized this, as well, and that Nick had figured it out at some point but had kept his silence.

“Oh, shit,” Joe says, and their mother snaps, “Language, Joseph!” more out of reflex than anything else, before turning her attention back to Kevin.

“Who is this _Mike_ , then?” Kevin senior asks, brow furrowed with suspicion and perhaps concern, but Kevin isn’t sure whether the concern is for him or for… well, he’s not really sure of anything, really.

Kevin takes a deep breath, and dives.

“The other guy. In the picture. His name is Mike Carden. He’s in a band, and, um. We’ve,” Kevin darts his tongue out to wet his lips, and takes the final plunge. “We’ve been dating for, um, a year and a half. Um. Maybe two? It kind of depends on how you count.” He and Mike hadn’t really bothered with anniversaries or anything, given how crazy even trying to see each other semi-regularly was.

He tries not to be discouraged by the way his mother has a hand clasped over her mouth and is staring at him like he just grew a second head. The furrow in Kevin senior’s brow has deepened, into something like anger, and Kevin grips his knees to stop his hands from shaking.

“You knew about this?” He turns to level an accusatory stare at Nick and Joe, the latter of whom just shrugs.

“Yeah. Well, not right away, but yeah. Mike’s cool,” is Joe’s ringing endorsement, and Kevin feels the corner of his mouth twitch upward in spite of the stress he’s under, because Joe really is an excellent brother.

“I…” Nick pauses, uncharacteristically for him, “I knew. I didn’t—“ His mouth twists in a strange little grimace. “It wasn’t my secret to tell. Sorry.” The last is directed at their parents, and Kevin tries to telegraph his thanks, even though all the secrecy may have made things worse.

“ _Kevin Jonas_.” Kevin’s eyes widen, and he can’t help the way they lead him to fully facing his mother, who has gone from something like shock and horror to a fierce expression that Kevin can’t actually recall ever seeing before. _This is it,_ he thinks, the moment when he’s told he’s no longer welcome — in this home, in this band, in this family. The squeezing pain in his chest intensifies to a level that Kevin thinks may, actually, be able to kill him.

“You’ve been seeing this boy for _two years_ , and didn’t think that you should, at some point, _tell us_?”

Kevin has nowhere to back away to, given that he’s seated in the armchair, but he gives it a good shot, quailing under the intensity of her stare. He breaks his gaze away and stares resolutely at the patch of carpet between his shoes.

“How could I?” He asks in a small voice he isn’t even sure is his. “I knew you’d— it would cause problems. For everyone, for the band, and,” he swallows thickly. “I just. Nick already hates me for it, I couldn’t.” _Couldn’t bear to have the rest of you hate me, too,_ he finishes in thought only.

He isn’t planning on looking up again until the judgment has been passed and he’s dismissed to pack his things and get out, but there’s a soft choking noise from the loveseat across from him, and Kevin glances over, only to see Nick looking positively shattered. It takes Kevin’s brain a moment to process this information, because it’s so unexpected that it pulls him almost completely from his maudlin thoughts.

“ _Kev,_ ” Nick’s voice is low and wrecked and Joe looks worried, sliding off the armrest and down onto the cushion next to him.

“It’s okay, Nicky,” Kevin murmurs, because he’s had time to get used to it, even if he’ll never quite get _over_ the way his brother can barely look at him anymore.

“It’s _not_ ,” Nick says, vehement, eyes blazing as he sits up straighter and wipes the shock off his face. “It’s not, Kev. I didn’t— I’m _sorry_ , okay?”

Kevin can’t do much more than blink at him.

“I didn’t get it,” he says, pushing forward the way Nick always does when he gets it in his head to do something. “I didn’t, and I’m sorry I didn’t. I thought, I don’t know. I thought you were just _abandoning_ everything. All the beliefs we grew up with,” and Kevin tries so hard to ignore the way his parents both flinch at that, and really hopes they don’t flat-out _ask_ , because his sexuality is hard enough to talk about; he doesn’t need to discuss his sex life, too. Like how he has one at all.

“But I was _wrong_ , okay Kev? I’m sorry, and I was wrong. And,” Nick takes a breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is a measure softer. “He loves you, doesn’t he?”

Kevin hadn’t thought he could get more flushed, but apparently he can, because a new wave of warmth floods his cheeks. It’s a different kind, though.

“Yeah. He does,” Kevin answers, and he knows his voice is too warm, too fond, it’s too much for this conversation, but he can’t help it. _Mike loves him_ , and that’s not something he’s ever going to be ashamed of. He meets both his brothers’ eyes, not surprised to see the support from Joe, but still a little bit struck and amazed at Nick.

“Did I tell you he’s moving to LA?” He offers, like an olive branch. Joe beams at him, because Joe understands right away and Kevin knows he’s almost as happy for Kevin as Kevin is for himself. The part that’s new and sort of wonderful is how Nick grants him a rare smile, and says, “I’m glad,” and Kevin knows he actually means it.

A clearing throat makes Kevin jump a little, because okay, he actually nearly forgot for a half a second that their parents are right there on the couch, that they had observed the whole conversation.

“I can’t say I approve of this,” Kevin senior is saying, eyeing all three of them now, and Kevin will never live down his guilt if any of this is taken out on his brothers, but their father keeps talking. “I don’t know that I can be accepting of this choice you’ve made, Kevin,” he says, “But you are an adult now, and it’s your choice to make. I would prefer if you avoid this sort of … situation again.” Kevin can tell he wants to make some kind of comment about the negative publicity, the band, the label, the network. And he knows he can’t avoid that conversation forever, but for now he seems content to leave it there.

“ _Regardless,_ ” Denise cuts in before anyone else can speak, “This young man is in town?”

Kevin shakes his head. “No. They had the last show of the tour last night in Chicago. And one of his bandmates is having surgery on his hand, so. Um. They’re moving the weekend after next.” He doesn’t mention how excited he is, or about the private housewarming they have planned. He has a feeling, though, that she knows — that secret mind-reading superpower of mothers has never been so embarrassing.

“Then he’ll be here for Sunday dinner the weekend after next,” she says, and Kevin blinks in shock, too stunned to respond to this sudden declaration. “I’ll make a roast. Unless he’s a vegetarian?”

Kevin thinks his mouth may never fully close again, his jaw has dropped so far, but he manages to shake his head. “No, he’s not. I mean, roast would be fine, I think.” He’s not sure where the words coming out of his mouth are coming from, or how he hasn’t been kicked out or any of the other horrible things he’d imagined leading to this moment.

“I’m pretty sure Mike likes meat,” Joe says, and Kevin can’t actually tell if he meant it to come out that way or if Joe himself only realizes what he’d said after he said it, but he grins and cackles a little, and Kevin can’t help but smile even though he’s pretty sure he should be insulted or something.

“ _Joseph!_ ” Kevin senior nearly shouts, and Joe’s eyes fly open wide and he runs out of the room as quickly as he can, making for the relative safety of the back yard before he’s grounded or whatever punishment is deemed appropriate for making off-color jokes about … um. That. And Kevin finally entertains the thought that maybe, just maybe, everything will actually be okay after all.

  


**~oOo~**  


(April 25, 2009)

Mike had no idea he even had this much shit, until he’d had to pack it all up and stick it in the van to move it halfway across the country. His apartment was tiny, so he’s pretty sure most of this stuff materialized overnight just in time to be packed. He had, in fact, packed all of it, but as he stares at the pile of boxes in the corner of his new room, the LA sunlight slanting through the window and across the wood floor, catching on the fluttering dust motes they’ve kicked up by tromping in and out all afternoon with box after box, he realizes that he really doesn’t feel like starting to unpack right away.

“We’re going to return the truck,” Chizzy’s voice filters up from the base of the stairs, and Mike can hear the sound of the door opening.

“Alright,” he calls back, and the door closes again a moment later, accompanied by the faint jangling of keys and Naomi’s voice asking for the directions to the return location on their U-Haul.

“Where do you want to start?” Kevin asks, looking at the pile of boxes and gesturing with the hand not holding a cold Mountain Dew like it’s the nectar of the gods. Which it is, after hauling all these damn boxes up the stairs. Kevin’s curls are sweaty and he’s flushed, even stripped down to basketball shorts and a wifebeater. The combination of LA weather and unloading the U-Haul means that they should probably be drinking water, and Mike should probably suggest that and then go get some, but…

“I don’t,” he says, taking the Mountain Dew in a quick swipe and downing a gulp of it — ignoring Kevin’s yelp of protest at the theft — then setting it carefully on one of the more stable boxes. He grabs a handful of the wifebeater and tugs with more force than is probably necessary, given that Kevin doesn’t fight him at all. “I can unpack later,” he says, and Kevin’s skin is hot against his, his lips warm and a little chapped after being in the sun so much as they unloaded the truck.

Kevin’s hands find their way under Mike’s tanktop soon after, and then they’re tumbling together down onto the bare mattress that’s been shoved into the corner, which isn’t where Mike actually wants his bed, but whatever. The bed frame is in pieces in the hallway, and they don’t need it right now anyway. There’s only a couple of layers of nylon and cotton between them, loose shorts and boxer-briefs not doing much of anything to hide their matching arousal.

“I think you promised me a housewarming present,” Mike smirks, even though really he considers Kevin’s mere presence to be his gift, since there was every possibility that the Jonas clan could have closed ranks and done whatever they could to keep the two of them apart. Instead, Kevin’s here, no flimsy excuses or secrecy needed, and Mike hadn’t actually realized how much of an effect all the secrecy had been having on _him_ until all the subtle tension released in the course of a phone call nearly two weeks earlier.

Kevin pushes them from lying side-by-side, over so Mike is on his back and Kevin can press against him, rubbing himself against Mike’s thigh as they kiss, slow and easy and dirty.

“Yeah, I did,” Kevin says, husky and wanting. “I thought. I mean, I wanted.”

Mike quirks an eyebrow at him, and Kevin laughs nervously, leans in for another kiss that Mike is only too happy to grant, loving the way Kevin’s hips hitch when Mike nibbles at his lower lip. Then Kevin pulls back for a moment and asks,

“Can I fuck you?” His face so red Mike would be worried about sunburn except that red wasn’t there a second ago, and he knows how Kevin flushes, loves how easy he is to read. He can’t help the way he freezes, though, just for a moment.

Kevin pushes off further, radiating suppressed hurt. “Sorry, I just—“ He starts, and Mike has recovered himself enough at that point to haul Kevin back down, flush with his own body, and presses a kiss against Kevin’s neck, just below his ear.

“Shut up. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Mike says, struggling only a little bit to keep his voice level. Kevin has shifted enough that he can turn his head and look at Mike’s face, searching. Mike takes a deep breath and curls his fingers in the collar of Kevin’s wifebeater, keeping him close.

“I just haven’t done that since—“ _Tom_ , he doesn’t say, but he has a feeling that Kevin has already put the pieces together on that one, so maybe he doesn’t have to. At least not right now. “Not for a long time,” he finally finishes, and Kevin nods, and Mike is just really fucking grateful that he doesn’t have to say any more. Except, apparently he does, because Kevin says,

“It’s okay, I just thought maybe,” and Mike stops him with a quick press of lips and says, “Yes.”

Kevin’s confusion is adorable, and Mike never thought he’d ever let anyone do this ever again, but it’s _Kevin_ and Mike has a feeling like maybe ‘Kevin’ and ‘forever’ go together now, for him.

“Did you bring the stuff?” He asks, because he knows he’s got lube somewhere, but fucked if he can remember which box it’s in right now. Kevin just grabs the CVS bag that the Mountain Dew had come in as well, pulls out the package of condoms and the little bottle of lubricant, and Mike blinks because Kevin had run out for sodas an hour or so ago, so he’d gone to the store…

“After the picture, it’s not like anyone doesn’t know I’m gay, already,” Kevin explains, reasonably, and Mike can’t explain why that makes him as happy as it does, not really. But he has to kiss Kevin again, after that, so he does. And he keeps kissing Kevin as they strip off shirts and shorts and boxer-briefs until they’re naked against each other on the bare mattress.

Mike pushes Kevin over on the mattress and pops open the lube, smearing it across his fingers as he gets to his knees. The first brush of his own cool fingertips against his hole is a surprise, an old memory and an old sensation coming back all at once. He shivers as he presses the first finger in, and Kevin whimpers, leaning up on his elbows so he can see what Mike is doing.

“Do you want to?” Mike finds himself asking, because fuck, it feels good, he’d nearly forgotten how good this could be, but he’s nearly bowled over by how much he suddenly wants the fingers stretching him open to be _Kevin’s_. Luckily, Kevin doesn’t waste any time, taking the lube and spilling more than strictly necessary over his hand. Mike’s still got two fingers in himself when Kevin joins in, and he can’t help but groan when Kevin’s index finger breaches him, increasing the stretch and the burn of it. He lets Kevin take over, slowly withdrawing his own fingers as Kevin adds two more and twists, and _fuck_. He braces both of his hands on the mattress, not even caring that he’ll never get the lube entirely cleaned off and not caring at all.

“Is that enough?” Kevin asks, ages later, after that twist of his fingers has driven Mike completely crazy, and he nods _yes, yes, it’s enough_ because it is — it’s been a while, but he’s done this before, and he knows he likes a little bit of burn as he’s being filled up.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good,” Mike reassures him, and Kevin looks more than a little nervous as he tears open one of the condoms and rolls it down over his leaking cock, so hard against his belly. Mike spares a thought that maybe he should have gotten Kevin off first, should have sucked him so he’d last longer for this, because Mike remembers the first time he was ever _inside_ someone else, and how embarrassingly quickly that moment had been over. But it’s too late now, and maybe he’s just a little bit selfish, but the years its been are suddenly years too long, and Kevin’s looking up at him, open and so fucking _perfect_ and Mike wants this now, before he lets himself think too hard about the last time he’d let someone fuck him.

He reaches down to line them up, then slides backward without any preamble, hissing at the burn of it. Kevin’s not the biggest guy he’s ever done this with, but he’s plenty big enough that the way he stretches Mike’s hole is _delicious_ , fuck, and so is the look on his face. He’s got his eyes closed, clenched tight, and his mouth open in a gasping, _Oh!_ that turns into a long groan as Mike slides further down onto him, until he’s fully seated against Kevin’s hips and Kevin’s fingers, still a little sticky and slick from the lube, are tight on Mike’s waist.

“Oh my god,” Kevin gasps, his breathing heavy and his pupils blown so wide his eyes are almost all black, and Mike leans up over him and kisses him as dirty as he knows how, all tongue and teeth, until Kevin thrusts his hips up experimentally and Mike has to stop kissing him to moan into his neck.

“Yeah,” he grinds out, “Just like that, Kev. Fuck. Should’ve known you’d be good at this,” He grins, and Kevin keeps pushing up into him, harder and faster until _fucking_ is the only word for what they’re doing, the only thing that possibly fits. Mike lets himself find Kevin’s rhythm, pushing back into Kevin’s thrusts until Kevin looks totally wrecked, and Mike knows he’s not much better. Then he shifts, just enough, and

“Fuck!” he shouts, louder than he expected himself to be, but the angle’s finally right for Kevin to rub up against his prostate, and the new/old feeling, the way it sends a flare of heat through him, makes him tighten up around Kevin. And that’s it, all it takes to send Kevin over the edge; Mike just rolls his hips as Kevin shakes through his orgasm, fucking up into Mike with short little jerks of his hips as he fills the condom. Mike leans to one side just enough that he can brace himself with only the one arm, and reaches down between them to fist his own cock tightly; there’s enough lube left on his fingers and enough precome dripping onto Kevin’s belly to make it easy, and he strokes himself hard and fast while Kevin’s still hard inside him. Kevin whimpers after a moment, and Mike knows he’s oversensitized, lets Kevin slip from his body. Thank fuck, thank _fuck_ Kevin is a quick study at this, because he replaces his cock with his fingers again, finding just the right spot.

“Is that good?” Kevin’s voice isn’t back to normal yet, rough and deeper than usual, and Mike kisses him hard as he comes all over Kevin’s stomach. He only barely remembers to roll slightly to the side so he doesn’t crush Kevin when he goes all fucked-out and boneless. They stay curled up together for a few quiet minutes, sweat cooling on skin, trading lazy kisses and touches, not quite getting ready for another round, but Mike decides that it’s not out of the range of possibilities.

“Should’ve done that a long time ago,” he says, and Kevin’s skin reddens again, a shy smile crossing his face that Mike licks off his mouth.

“We can do it again?” Kevin suggests, all hopeful voice and happy smiles, and Mike can’t help laughing.

“Fuck yes we’re doing it again,” he agrees, and he’s actually kind of tempted to go for it right then and there, except that’s of course when the front door slams, and he can hear Chizzy and Naomi’s voices, muffled by the mostly-closed bedroom door and the distance between the floors. And okay, it’s pretty much expected that sex is going to happen in the house, what with the newlyweds down the hall and the fact that Mike and Kevin are now in the same city more than a couple of days a year, but the whole “mostly-closed” door thing might be an issue. He’s tempted to say fuck it, with how Kevin’s pouting and already half-hard again, but they have time. They have all the time in the world.

“Later,” he promises, and Kevin pouts some more but shimmies back into his shorts. Mike’s underwear end up a casualty of cleanup, but he figures he can find another pair somewhere in all the crap he’s got piled up in his room. For now they’re sort-of clean and yeah, it’s totally obvious what they’ve been up to, but Mike doesn’t care. Actually, he’s sort of absurdly proud of the clearly sex-related bedhead Kevin is sporting at the moment.

“We’re ordering Chinese!” Naomi calls from downstairs, and Mike stands up, hauling himself off the mattress with a wince at the way his muscles pull, but it’s a good sort of ache. He gives Kevin a hand up.

“Chinese?” he asks, and Kevin says, “Yeah, I could eat,” and Mike knows with some certainty that after the Chinese, they’re going to come right back up here and continue to not unpack anything at all. Which works for him.

“You know,” Kevin says off-hand as they walk down the hallway side-by-side, “My mom now wants to know when you’re going to make an honest man out of me.” And he’s joking, Mike can tell by the way his smile quirks, the teasing lilt to his voice, so he laughs and grabs Kevin’s hand, lacing their fingers together as they head down the stairs.

“I always figured I’d be a January bride,” he deadpans, and Kevin laughs so hard he nearly falls down the stairs, but somewhere deep inside, Mike feels like maybe he’s not joking as much as Kevin probably thinks he is. And thinking about it, Mike realizes he doesn’t actually mind at all, even if neither of them would technically be able to wear white.

  


**~oOo~**  


(Some Time Later)

  
  


THE END.

**Author's Note:**

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>   
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> 
> _Make a Mistake_ \- Mix by Chalcopyrite  
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